


The Art of Remembering

by swans_and_pirates



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10421685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swans_and_pirates/pseuds/swans_and_pirates
Summary: Killian hasn’t seen Emma in months, not since she ran off in the middle of the night. But when he receives a call from the hospital informing him that she’s been in an accident he rushes to be by her side. Nervous and anxious to see her again he’s not sure what to expect—but he definitely doesn’t anticipate that upon waking she would have no idea who he is. Modern au





	1. Chapter 1

It’s way past when he should’ve been home that Killian Jones finds himself dragging his tired body in through his front door. Work hasn’t kept him this late in a long time and, to put it simply, he is _exhausted._ Even just slipping off his shoes and tossing his keys to the table is almost too much effort, his limbs heavy and awkward.

He doesn’t even bother to turn on the light—choosing to stumble through the front room by memory—before he groans and collapses onto the couch in a sprawled out heap.

He should just take the extra steps down the hall to his room and go to bed, knows he’ll probably regret staying up even later come morning. But as tired as he is, he knows how impossible it will be for him to fall asleep. Not with the way his mind is racing right now. It would keep him up for hours, running circles around things he would rather not think about this late at night.

 So instead he stretches out his arm and blindly searches for the remote. The fluorescent glow of the television slices through the darkness as he skims through the channels with little interest. Nothing good is ever on at this time of night anyways. Eventually he settles on a rerun marathon of _Friends_ and tosses the remote to the other end of the couch. Ignoring the way it bounces off the arm of the chair and clatters onto the floor.

He burrows a little deeper into the leather cushions, sighing at the relief it brings his aching muscles, and falls asleep sometime in the middle of the second episode.

* * *

The loud, familiar melody of his ring tone startles Killian awake. He squints his eyes against the light of the flashing television and fumbles for his phone. Disoriented and half asleep he knocks it from the coffee table and curses as it slides away from him, still shrilling. 

“Hello?” he answers, his voice thick with sleep. Who the bloody hell is calling him at two in the morning?

“Hello, is this Killian Jones?” The voice on the other end is calm and methodic, strangely soothing in its clarity.

“Mr. Jones, this is Massachusetts General Hospital—”

He almost misses what is said next, his heart drops and he sits up a little straighter all drowsiness forgotten. Calls from hospitals in the middle of the night are never a good thing, and in that instant he’s slammed with the possibilities of what it could be, fear ripping at his chest. Is it Liam? It has to be Liam—he can’t think of anyone else they would call him for.

“—we have you on record as being the emergency contact for Emma Swan.”

“E-Emma?” It wasn’t the name he was expecting. But it’s a name that only causes the vice-like grip around his heart to squeeze harder and he struggles for a moment to breathe.

He hasn’t seen her in months, not since he woke one morning to find her gone. Her side of the bed long gone cold—and any traces that she’d once lived there erased from every room of his apartment. It had felt like a nightmare, memories of the way she’d murmured _I love you_ into his skin only the night before haunting the now hollow walls of his apartment. He’d tried to contact her, tried to find her, because he _knew_ that she was as much in love with him as he was with her. However, she’d all but vanished, and it had been months since he’d seen or spoken with her.

“What happened? Is she all right?” His questions are an anxious rush, panic quickening both his heart and his speech as he scrambles for his shoes and keys.  

“She was in a car accident and is currently in surgery, but if you could get down here as soon as possible we’ll be able to inform you more on the situation.”

_Surgery._  Killian closes his eyes and sucks in a trembling breath.

“Alright, I’m on my way.” And he’s out the door before the kind woman on the other end has a chance to hang up.

* * *

The bright lights and strict, sterile smell immediately assaults his senses as he enters the hospital through the sliding double doors.

It takes him only a few large strides to reach the woman at the front desk. She offers him a kind smile and blinks her lashes at him a few times before asking what she can do to help him.

“I just got a c-call…” he stammers as he runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Emma Swan. Can you tell me where she is?”

“Of course. Just one second, please.”

It seems to take her an eternity to turn to the computer and filter through whatever information it is that she has in order to pull up Emma’s whereabouts. He has to clench his fists in order to keep himself from strumming his fingers against the woman’s desk, and he’s positive that someone who works at the front desk of a hospital should do things with a little more urgency.

But she takes her sweet time and each second that passes only succeeds in intensifying the dreadful sensation of his heart being ripped from his chest.

“She’s on the sixth floor,” she finally says, turning her attention back to him. “She’s still in surgery, but there is a waiting room up there. I’ll let them know you’re here and they’ll come find you as soon as they have any news.”

“Thank you.” He gives her a quick nod, already backing away from her desk, and then practically runs down the hall, only skidding to a stop when he comes across an elevator.

He gives the button on the wall a good hard push and stands back to wait for the doors to open. It doesn’t come right away, and he bounces on his heels a bit before agitatedly, pressing the button a few more times for good measure.

A part of him knows that getting up there a few seconds sooner isn’t going to do anything—that she’ll probably be in surgery for a while longer. But a louder part of him feels like if he can even just be _near_ her sooner, then maybe he can see her sooner, and that if he’s quick enough maybe she’ll be okay.

_Because she has to be okay._

And as ridiculous as that sounds even to his own ears, he can’t help the way his fingers drum against his leg with nervous energy as he waits for the elevator.

The soft ring of a bell announces the opening of the doors and he pushes his way inside before the people on the other side even have a chance to completely step out. Ignoring the glares that are sent his way, Killian pushes the six and leans back against the cold wall, sighing as the doors close.

He shuts his eyes and counts each high-pitched ding as the elevator ascends, only opening his eyes upon reaching the number six.

It doesn’t take him long to find the waiting room, but despite what the lady at the lobby desk told him to do he doesn’t just sit down and wait to be found. Locating the nearest nurse he jogs up to her, but manages to stutter out little more than Emma’s name.

He’s told the exact same thing.

She’s still in surgery. It will be a while. Please sit down they’ll come find him as soon as anything changes.

He collapses hard into the nearest chair and buries his head in his hands. The tears he’s been keeping locked away since he first got the call finally slip free. Sliding down his cheeks until they fall and shatter against his shoes.

He gives himself a few minutes to break down—to let the fear swallow him and rip a hole through his chest. It’s been months since he’s seen her, but even then, he’s not sure he’d survive it if he lost her.

Wiping at his eyes he straightens his back and stares at the television in the corner. The volume is so low he can’t decipher what the sitcom, which seems to mock him with its cheerfulness, is saying. But he tries to let the unintelligible muttering numb the worry eating away at his insides.

It doesn’t work.

He’s always hated hospitals. Hates the thick eerie silence. Hates that the air is heavy with what can only be grief and anxiety. He hates the way the sporadic sob, cough, and whirl of the coffee machine creates a haunting orchestra woven together by people with nothing better to do but wait. 

And waiting here, on a stiff chair that does nothing to ease the knots twisting in his stomach, is what he hates the most.

The hours drag on, minutes feel like hours, and time refuses to move faster no matter how many times he looks at his phone. But despite the lateness of the hour he can’t sleep—not that he even tries.

It’s near four in the morning when an older doctor with graying hair and kind eyes finally approaches him.

“Killian Jones?”

He jumps out of his chair the second he hears his name. “Yes, that’s me,” he breathes. “How is she? Is she alright? What hap—”

The doctor raises his hand, effectively quieting Killian’s stream of questions. “She’s steady. Her car hydroplaned into oncoming traffic which caused it to roll several times before landing in a roadside ditch. She has a couple of broken ribs and suffered massive internal bleeding. We were able to find the source and stop the bleeding but it took a while. She’ll need time to heal but I’m happy to say she should have a complete recovery.”

Relief washes over him strong and swift at the doctors words, soothing the torment that had been burning his soul.

“A concussion is also likely,” the doctor continues, “but we won’t know for sure until she wakes.”

“Can I see her?”

“Of course, I’ll take you to her. Are you her boyfriend? Relative?”

“Boyfriend,” Killian answers a little too quickly. Well he _was_ , at least at one point. But he’s nervous that they won’t let him see her otherwise. And knowing Emma, if he’s still her emergency contact then there isn’t anyone else to come for her, and it pains him to imagine her waking up and dealing with this on her own.

He wants to be here for her as long as she needs him. Even if it’s just as a friend.

The doctor smiles at him, not even a little suspicious, and leads him down the hall to Emma’s room.

“She probably won’t regain consciousness for a few hours, and there’s a call button if she needs attention for any reason.” He clasps Killian’s shoulder and gives it a slight squeeze before leaving him alone at the entrance of her hospital room.

He hesitates, his hand frozen to the door’s handle and it’s like his fingers have suddenly forgotten how to work, unable to complete the simple task of turning the handle and pushing the door open. Glued in place by the realization that he’s really about to see her. After months of silence, and nights where the longing often became so intense it seared with an ache that lingered well into the daylight hours, he was really going to see her.

 He takes a shuddering breath and pushes the door open, his eyes searching for the familiar lines of her face the instant he steps into the room. The feelings that rush through him at the sight of her are a tumultuous mix that leaves him both unsteady and breathless.

 Tubes and wires trail from her hand to various fluids and machines that keep track of her vitals with a steady beep, while an oxygen tube runs just beneath her nose. She looks as though the entire hospital room has swallowed her. Just a tiny, frail, and broken thing whose only protection is the thin blanket covering her.

As Killian walks closer his heart breaks at all the bruises and cuts that decorate her pale skin. He has to bite his lip against the burning sensation behind his eyes, but she’s breathing, and her heart is beating, and he’s never felt more relief for these two simple facts in his entire life.

In the silence, Killian drags one of the chairs to her bed side and slowly lowers himself into it. He aches to touch her, to let his fingers trail along the softness of her skin, but instead he laces his fingers together and rests them in his lap. Letting his eyes trace the path his fingers long to take.

He finds that in spite of the time apart, he still has every dip, every curve, every freckle of her face memorized. It’s not something he could ever forget. And as small and as fragile as she looks right now, she’s still just as beautiful as she’s ever been. With her golden hair fanning out against the stark white of her pillow, a splash of sunshine in the otherwise dull room, and the delicate softness of her lashes brushing against her cheekbones.

She still manages to steal his breath.    

Leaning back against his chair Killian watches the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and it’s not long before the anxiety and lack of sleep catches up to him. It had been a long day and even longer night, but adrenaline and fear had kept him wide awake. But now that he’s here with her, now that he knows she’s safe, everything around him finally calms and he lets the easy rhythm of her breathing lull him into a restless sleep.

* * *

Killian jerks awake with a start, his mind disoriented and his body stiff and sore. He rubs at his eyes and takes in the lines of light that peek through the closed blinds and guesses that it’s at least late morning.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket he groans at the string of text messages from Will, there has to be at least ten. Typing in his passcode he opens his messages and reads the most recent one.

_Will: Where are you eejit? It’s past ten._

He’s not in the mood or the mindset to deal with Will’s sarcastic attitude, and so the response he types out is quick and to the point, even if a bit vague.

_Killian: I’m not coming into work today, and might not be able to tomorrow. I’ll let you know though._

The three little dots blink across the bottom of the screen for a second before Will’s response pops up.

_Will: Are you okay?_

The corner of Killian’s mouth quirks up in a half smile. As irritating as the man can sometimes be, he has a good heart.

_Killian: Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll tell you later._

He doesn’t wait for a reply, turning his phone on silent and slipping it back into the pocket of his jeans.

He considers going out to find the cafeteria, or at the very least coffee because heaven knows he needs it, but he’s worried that Emma will wake while he’s gone, so he convinces himself that he can go a couple more hours without anything.

And despite his resolve to stay in her hospital room, what he _can’t_ stand another minute of is sitting in this unforgivable chair, his spine is already protesting the hours he spent sleeping in it. So he stands and arches his back, stretching his arms above his head and takes to pacing the room instead.  

He tries to remind himself that the doctor said she would wake in a few hours only six hours ago. And that it is still well within the prescribed time frame. That her body is healing, that it needs the rest, and that she will wake soon enough.

But he wears a worried path into the cold, tile floor just the same.

It’s a little over an hour later, just before he’s about to give in and make a quick trip to the cafeteria, when Emma finally begins to stir. Killian freezes mid step when she moans quietly and turns her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shut tighter as she does so.

He’s back in the seat beside her in an instant, placing her small hand in both of his as he finally gives in to the desire to touch her. He’s not sure he even breathes as he waits those few seconds it takes for her to blink her eyes open. 

Emma squints as she adjusts to the light of the room, her brow furrowing as her eyes scan her surroundings in confusion.

“Am I…” she rasps, reaching up with her free hand to feel the tube running across her cheeks. “I’m…I’m in a hospital?”

“Aye, love.”

“What happened?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Your car hydroplaned into another car, which sent you rolling into a ditch. You’re lucky you’re alive. You broke a few ribs, and along with all your bruises and possible concussion, you suffered major internal bleeding that took hours in surgery to get under control.” Killian has to stop his explanation to take a deep breath and swallow the lump stuck in his throat. “You scared me. Bloody hell, you scared me. I told you that bug was a metal deathtrap”

Emma tilts her head curiously at his last sentence, remaining silent as she soaks everything in.

Finally she tears her gaze from his and looks down at herself. Killian watches as she lifts her hand from his and raises it to eye level, examining the thin tubes connected to her veins.

His focus is completely zeroed in on her, trying to decipher what she needs. Is she in pain? Does she need more medicine? Does she need a doctor to give a better explanation?

_Does she need him to leave?_

Because though he still loves her, she left him. And though he knows enough of her past and her fears to understand her desire to run, he’d hoped he’d proved to her that he wasn’t the same, that he wasn’t going to leave her.

But it hadn’t been enough. _He_ hadn’t been enough.

And he’s not going to force his company on her if she doesn’t want it.

Emma finally flicks her eyes back to his, but she only keeps eye contact for a brief moment before her eyes do a quick scan up and down the rest of his body, appraising him.

“I see…” she says, the green of her eyes meeting his again. “And are you my doctor?”

It’s immediate, the way that one sentence makes his stomach drop and his mouth fall open as he gapes at her.

_Her doctor?_

He shakes his head, not sure he heard correctly. “Your doctor? Swan, it’s me…Killian.” He’s rambling just a bit and his stomach sinks impossibly closer to the floor when he realizes her eyes hold no recognition. “You…you don’t know me?”

Emma shakes her head. “I don’t. I’m sorry.” She gives him a small, apologetic smile, but all it does is make his world shatter a little more. “But I…I take it I should?”

Killian drags a hand down his face and releases a heavy sigh. “Aye, Swan. You should.”

She’s watching him with careful, guarded eyes, and the slight hint of skepticism in them reminds him of those first few months after he met her. And this more than anything stamps in stone the reality that she has no idea who he is.

And heaven knows what else she’s forgotten.

Killian stands, pushing his chair out behind him with more force than he intended, the legs of it scraping against the tile with a loud grating noise. He runs his hands through his hair and walks to the door, only pausing when his hand is on the handle.

Turning his head to look at her, he finds that Emma is still watching him. And he didn’t think his heart could be wrenched any further, but the complete lack of familiarity in her eyes certainly does just that. “I’ll be back, Swan. I…I need to go find your doctor.”

And with that he pulls the door open and disappears into the hall. 

* * *

Killian sits cross-legged on the floor of the hallway right outside Emma’s room, his head thrown back against the wall and his eyes closed. The doctor had given him a knowing look when Killian gave him a frantic explanation of Emma’s state and then told him to wait outside while he spoke with her. 

And now he’s waiting as the good doctor has a moment alone with Emma. But Killian doesn’t need a medical professional to tell him what’s wrong with her. He’s figured that out well enough on his own.

He’d been imagining a myriad of reactions from her once she woke. Ready for anything—he’d even been preparing himself in case she asked him to leave. But this…this was not something he’d been expecting.  

And he doesn’t know what’s worse. Her telling him she doesn’t want to see him, or her not knowing him at all.

The sound of the door opening startles Killian from his thoughts, and he’s quick to pull himself to his feet.

The doctor gives him a sad smile as he closes the door. “Mr. Jones, if we could talk a moment.” He gestures down the hall with a tilt of his head and Killian follows him until they are a few feet away from Emma’s door.

The doctor sighs. “It appears Miss Swan does indeed have a concussion but that is only the beginning of her head injuries. She has retrograde amnesia, meaning she can’t remember the accident or a significant period beforehand. It’s hard to tell just how far back the memory loss goes. She knows who she is, but she’s forgotten you obviously, and she doesn’t remember ever living in Boston. That little piece of information is a good indicator for how severe the memory loss is. How long has she lived here?”

Killian swallows. “Just a little over a year.”

“I see. Well, good news, though it’s hard to tell exactly, the memory loss might not go back much further than that. In the majority of cases like this the amnesia is temporary, but it’s hard to say specifically how long it will last. The best thing for her right now will be to go home and rest, and as she heals surround her with familiar people, places, and things—though I’d take it slow at first so as not to overwhelm her, but that should help her regain the memories she’s lost. I can also suggest a cognitive therapist if you feel this is not enough, or if after a while she doesn’t show signs of improvement.”

Killian nods, overwhelmed. “Thank you, Doctor.” He’s not sure exactly how he’s going to manage all of this, considering he has no idea where her current home even is.

“Of course. I’d like to keep her here for a couple more days to monitor her. Make sure no complications arise from her surgery. After that you can take her home.” For the second time in twenty four hours he gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, much like a father comforting his son.  “She’ll heal Mr. Jones. It just may take some time.”

And with that the doctor leaves him alone with his thoughts.

Killian looks down at his shoes and blows out a heavy breath, weighed down by everything that’s happened in the last twelve hours.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, staring at the tiled floor as if somewhere in the repetitive pattern is the solution to all of this. But it’s long enough that a couple of nurses come up and ask if he needs anything, always leaving with sympathetic smiles when he tells them he’s fine.

Finally he digs his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of the one person who always knows what to do, especially when he doesn’t.

His brother.

Liam answers after the third ring. “Hello?”

Killian takes a couple of steps backwards until his back hits the wall, he leans his head back against it and closes his eyes. Just hearing his brother’s voice is already enough to calm him. “Liam. I…I need…” He has to swallow and clear his throat. “I need your help with something.”

“Killian what is it?” An undercurrent of alarm colors Liam’s question. “Where are you?” 

“I’m at the hospital. I’m fine though.” Killian is quick to reassure him. “It’s Emma.” His voice breaks on her name and he has to slide down the wall and sit on the floor, suddenly exhausted.

Liam is silent for a moment, his voice much quieter when he responds. “What happened?”

“A car accident. And Liam she was in surgery for _hours_. I…I was so bloody worried, and then they said she would be okay and I just needed to wait for her to wake up.” He pauses, dragging his hand down his face.

“Has she woken?”

“Aye, she did a half hour or so ago.”

“Okay…” Killian can hear Liam’s slight confusion, and he knows his brother is trying to piece together what exactly is distressing him. “Is she alright? Does she need anything?” Liam pauses and his next questions are full of nothing but brotherly concern. “Are you okay? How did she react when she saw you?”

“That’s just it, Liam. She doesn’t remember me.”

“She doesn’t—”

“Remember me.” Killian finishes for him. “She doesn’t remember anything that’s happened in the last year at least. She doesn’t remember moving to Boston. And I don’t know what to do because the doctor said to take her home so she can be around familiar things to regain her memory, but I don’t even know where the bloody hell she lives.”

“Killian,” Liam sighs. “There’s really only one thing you can do…take her home with you.”

Killian doesn’t respond right away. He knows the only real option is to take her to his place and he wouldn’t hesitate for a second doing it, but he’s always wanted to do what’s best for her and he’s struggling with the idea that it might not be what Emma would want if she still had her memories.

“She left me, Liam.”

Silence greets him from the other end of the line. But it’s not long before he hears his brother sigh. “And right now she needs you. You know as well as I do that she doesn’t have anyone else. And besides, your home _is_ familiar to her, _you_ are familiar to her. She needs to heal, Killian, and you can help her do that.” 

As always his brother’s voice of reason helps him find his own sense of stability. Not that he really needed any convincing; he’d been planning on taking her in the second he realized what was happening. But having his brother think along the same lines is the comforting reassurance that he needed.

He’d do anything for Emma Swan and he’d do it in a heartbeat, even if the rhythm of that heart is a broken one. And therein lays the true problem and he’s quiet as he admits it to his brother.

“I’m still in love with her.”

“I know,” Liam’s response is soft. “But what she needs right now is a friend. Get some rest and then when she’s released you can take her home. Just take it a day at a time, help her get adjusted and back on her feet. Be the friend she needs.”

_Her friend._  

He could do that couldn’t he?

“Thanks, brother. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d manage. Call if you need anything and I’ll swing by in a few days to see how things are going.”

They say goodbye and Killian immediately pulls himself up off the floor. He’s had a lot to soak in and it hasn’t even been twenty four hours, but Emma is his priority right now and he can push aside his own feelings for however long he needs to.

Even if at the end of all of this he has to watch her walk away from him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: I was blown away by the response this got! Thank you to everyone that read, reviewed, commented etc. I hope you enjoy this next chapter :)

Disoriented doesn't even scratch the surface of what Emma is feeling right now. To wake up in a hospital bed barely able to move and not knowing how you got there is one thing. Being told that there are actual _years_ of your life you can't remember is another.

So no, disoriented doesn't even cover it.

Not to mention that she suspects that whatever painkillers she's on are starting to wear off. Moving even an inch sends bursts of pain blazing through her entire body, especially her torso.

She does her best not to move too much and spends who knows how long staring at the ceiling trying to recall the last thing she _does_ remember. But everything is too fuzzy in her brain at the moment to pinpoint an exact memory, and thinking about it makes her head ache.

Huffing in frustration she decides that maybe it'll be easier to focus on what she doesn't remember instead. She doesn't remember the accident. But she thinks that's pretty common, and that even people who don't have amnesia sometimes wake up in hospitals and don't know how they got there.

What's not usual though is that she doesn't remember ever living in Boston—well that's not entirely true. She did live here for a brief two months in one of her foster homes growing up, but that hardly counts.

Besides her current situation, she also is quite certain that she doesn't remember the handsome stranger she woke up to.

No. She's _definitely_ certain she doesn't remember him. She can't imagine forgetting a face like that.

Except she did, apparently.

_Killian_. That's what he'd said his name was. And from the way he'd looked at her—with those stormy, ocean eyes—she got the feeling that maybe she was important to him, or perhaps he was important to her. He'd certainly seemed devastated when she didn't know who he was.

But it's been an hour at least since the doctor talked to her, and if she were important to him wouldn't he have come back by now?

Not that she cares. Technically she doesn't even know him.

The nurse comes in just then, interrupting her thoughts. The woman is kind as she asks how Emma is doing and checks her vitals. Thankfully she gives her another dose of painkillers and promises that she should feel relief soon.

It's just as the nurse is finishing up that Emma hears a quiet knock at the door. Looking up she sees Killian as he takes a few slow and cautious steps into her room. He stands off to the side with his hands behind his back and waits as the nurse completes her tasks and leaves the room.

The soft click of the door shutting echoes through the quiet room, amplifying the silence between them, but Emma doesn't want to be the first to say anything. Because what do you say to someone you're supposed to know but don't?

Killian fidgets back and forth on his feet for a moment before he finally breaks the silence. "How are you feeling, Swan?"

The way his accent wraps around each syllable sends tiny butterflies to her stomach that she does her best to ignore.

She gives him a small shrug and a wry smile. "Oh you know, like I got hit by a truck or something."

His eyebrows lift and he chuckles without humor. "Aye, well that's fairly accurate I must say." He takes his hands out from behind his back and fiddles with a phone for a few seconds before he hands it to her. "I went and got your phone replaced. I figured you'd want it. Unfortunately your old phone was shattered beyond repair in the accident, but this has your old number and contacts and everything."

He scratches behind his ear and looks at the floor before sitting in one of the chairs against the wall, looking for all the world like he has no idea what to do with himself.

"Thank you," Emma says, eyeing him curiously. "And is your number in here?"

"It is. You can call or text me for anything while you're in here."

She raises an eyebrow at that. "Who says I'm going to call you?"

Killian smirks at her, his eyes teasing. "You obviously haven't had to eat the food here yet. You'll be begging me to bring you a grilled cheese and onion rings in no time."

The easy way he mentions one of her favorite meals as if its common knowledge between them catches her off guard, and she finds herself staring at him with an open intensity. Willing herself to just remember who is.

But no matter how hard or how long she stares at him nothing comes.

"Who are you?" she finally asks.

"My name is Killian Jones." He says it with such sadness that Emma can't help but feel her chest ache at his words.

"No. I mean who are you _to me?_ " she clarifies.

"We're friends." He gives her a small smile that's anything but happy and Emma finds herself wishing she could remember who he is just to get rid of the sorrow in his eyes.

"I don't usually have a lot of friends, and not ones that I could say actually know me very well… but you seem to." She tries not to, but she narrows her eyes at him, sensing that there is more to this than what he's telling her.

Killian sighs and rubs his hand back and forth along his scruff. "Aye, love. I know you quite well."

"And… I know you well?"

He answers with a brief nod and Emma looks away, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Because the thing is she _doesn't_ know this man and as far as she can remember he shouldn't know her. And it's unsettling because she doesn't do this. She doesn't let people get this close to her. But here is a man that had looked at her with such warmth and such affection when she woke, that it's near impossible to dispute that he is as close to her as he claims to be.

And to her that's even more confusing than the memory loss.

She has a million other things she could ask him, she feels like he's all she has to connect her to this life she's woken up to. That maybe he can tell her who she is here, and what her life has led to in the time she seems to have forgotten. But she doesn't get the chance because he suddenly stands and makes his way to the door.

He turns to her before stepping out into the hallway and she finds herself wishing he would stay. If anything just so she can figure out what the hell is going on in her life.

"Get some rest, Swan. I'll be back tomorrow." He's halfway out the door when he stops and turns to her again. "And don't forget to contact me if you need _anything_. And I mean anything."

"Okay," she whispers so quietly she's not sure he even hears, but he gives a curt nod as though satisfied and makes to leave again. "Killian—" she calls stopping him again. "I…I just wanted to say thank you… uh for the phone and everything."

The corners of his lips lift and she finally sees what a real smile on him looks like. "Of course, Swan. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

It doesn't take long for Emma to discover that lying in a hospital bed is without a doubt one of the most boring things she's ever done. The ten channels they have on the tiny television in the corner never have anything good on and despite how exhausted she is she doesn't have much success sleeping.

She spends most of her time alternating between trying to rest and scrolling the internet on her phone, which is only appealing for so long.

It's not even noon but she already finds herself wondering when Killian is going to show up for the day. He'd said he was coming but he never specified when, and she's dying to talk to someone other than the nurse.

She considers texting him to ask when he's coming, but then worries if doing so would be weird. Except he did tell her she could contact him about anything and they're supposedly friends, and friends text each other, right?

It should be no big deal, but it still takes about ten minutes of internal debate before she summons the courage to open up her contacts and find his name. It takes another two minutes of just sitting there with her thumb hovering over his name before she finally touches it and presses the _send message_ button and types out quick text.

_Emma: You're right. The food here is horrible…_

She feels nervous, which is ridiculous, but that doesn't keep her from quickly putting her phone face down on the bed beside her just to keep herself from staring at the screen to see if he's started typing out a response.

The buzz from her phone vibrating happens not even a minute later and if anyone was in the room with her she'd be embarrassed by how fast she picks it up. When she reads his reply she finds herself smiling in spite of herself.

_Killian: Ah I told you, Swan. The jello not to your liking?_

_Emma: I mean I can save you some if you want, but I believe I was promised a grilled cheese and some onion rings._

_Killian: Hmmm I don't recall promising such a thing but I guess I can manage swinging by somewhere to pick you up something ;)_

Emma snorts at his use of the old emoji and types out a long snarky response only to delete it and go with something much simpler instead.

_Emma: Good._

He doesn't answer again and she deliberates just letting the conversation drop, but she does still want to know when he's coming.

_Emma: When do you think you'll be here?_

The three dots at the bottom of the screen appear and disappear only to appear again. It repeats this pattern two more times before his answer pops up.

_Killian: Miss me already?_

Emma rolls her eyes. He's not lacking in the self-confidence department that's for sure and she files that piece of information away with what little else she knows about him.

_Emma: Nah. Just hungry._

_Killian: I'll be there in about an hour, love._

_Emma: Okay, see you then._

-CS-

"What'cha smiling at Jones?"

Killian looks up from his phone to see Will Scarlet stepping off one of the boats at the harbor and onto the docks. He begins tying the boat to one of the cleats, but he keeps looking at Killian with raised brows as though waiting for an answer.

Killian shakes his head and puts his phone in his pocket. "You're bloody infuriating, you know that Scarlet?"

Will just shrugs off-handedly and double checks the knot he's tied before standing up and brushing his hands off on his pants. "That looked an awful lot like an _Emma smile_ to me mate, and I ain't seen one of those in months." The man gives him a knowing smirk and Killian just rolls his eyes.

"You're way too nosy for your own good."

Will shoves his hands in his pockets and bounces a little on his heels. "Ah so it was Emma." He grows somber then, and gives Killian a sympathetic smile. "How's she doing?"

Killian sighs and rubs a hand along his jaw. This whole ordeal makes his chest ache and his heart heavy. It's not just that she was in an accident and has to deal with the pain and burden of her physical injuries healing, but she has to deal with a type of healing that's going to be way more taxing on her emotionally than anything, and it's a type of healing that no one can know for certain how long it will last.

He can only try to imagine what she's feeling and what she's going through at the moment.

"She's much the same. Doctor says it will be a few days before she can leave the hospital."

Will nods in understanding and looks off at the boats bobbing in the harbor for a moment before he turns back to Killian. "Ever think that this accident might be a good thing?"

Killian narrows his eyes and feels his fingers twitch before he gives in and curls them into fists. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He has to spit the words through his teeth and he hopes Scarlet can hear just how dangerous the territory he's treading on is. "She could have died. She almost died! And now on top of that she has no bloody recollection of anything from the last year at least. Please, Scarlet, enlighten me on how this is a good thing."

He must have taken a step forward without realizing it because Will takes a couple of quick steps backwards, his hands coming up and his palms facing outward in a placating motion. "Whoa there mate. All I meant was perhaps this is a good thing because it brought her back into your life."

Killian stops advancing forward but he doesn't relax, every single one of his muscles tensed as he tries to keep his anger in check. "This is hardly the circumstances I'd wish for her to return in."

"I know. But I mean she'll get her memories back eventually, right? And then she'll be here and maybe you can get some answers, get some closure about why she left. And bloody hell you need it, Jones. You've been nothing but a miserable sod since the day she left."

"Yeah, well…"Killian murmurs, shoving his hands in his pockets. He deflates as the anger leaves him, pierced by the reminder that she left in the first place. If he wasn't good enough for her then, who's to say that's going to change now? "I'm not expecting anything out of this. What happens when she gets her memories back is entirely her choice. Should she choose to leave again without any _closure_ as you put it—I'm going to respect that."

"That's a bit of a grim way to look at it, innit?"

"I'm doing this because I…I care about her. Not because I expect anything."

"You're a good man, Jones." Will squeezes his shoulder, and though it's a gesture that's supposed to comfort him, Killian can't even smile in return. Will must sense Killian's need to change the subject because when he continues speaking there is a little more pep in his tone than is usual for the man. "You've got a tour coming up in bit. I'll help you get Jolly Roger ready."

Killian releases a frustrated breath and runs a hand through his already mussed hair. A tour. He completely forgot.

"Uh actually…" Killian slings an arm around Will's shoulders and begins walking the man towards a completely different ship than his beloved Jolly Roger. " _You_ have a tour in a bit and you're not taking the Jolly."

"Oh no, no, no. I actually don't." Will counters, pulling to a stop and ducking out from under Killian's arms. "I took your last tour. This one's staying yours, mate."

Killian sighs. "I promised Emma I would be at the hospital in an hour. I need you to take this one."

With an exaggerated groan, Will throws his head back and starts walking backwards towards the ship he had just barely tied to the docks mere minutes ago, pointing his finger at Killian as goes. "You owe me, Jones. Now go be with your lady friend."

In all honesty, he really could use an hour or more out at sea. Let the wind and the salt clear his head and lift his spirits. But he knows if he went his heart wouldn't really be in it. Not with Emma lying in a hospital bed.

So Killian raises a hand in thanks before her turns and begins the short walk to his car.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I promise that this fic isn't going to be angsty forever (though the angst will still be here for a little while) Thank you for reading! I so appreciate all the comments and reviews and what not :)

The doctors let her leave on the fourth day and Killian’s there bright and early to take her home.

A nurse pushes in a wheelchair which Emma scrunches her nose at. But loathe as she is to be carted out of the hospital, not even her pride can change the fact that her entire body is still in a lot of pain. In the last four days she’s only walked as far as to the little bathroom in her room, and even that leaves her exhausted and aching.   

She’s fine as they wheel her down the hall, but it’s while they are in the elevator that a tightness starts to form in her chest, and she suddenly finds it difficult to draw enough air into her lungs.

What on earth is she even doing? She’s about to go to a home she doesn’t recognize with a man she feels like she just met. And none of this feels like the life she’s known.

Trying to quell her anxiety, Emma inhales a deep breath through her nose and blows it out slowly, rubbing her palms in a repetitive motion down her thighs. But it does little to relieve the tension coiling up inside her.  

“Emma, are you alright?”

Killian’s question catches her off guard and she jumps a little before looking up at him. His brow is furrowed and concern is swimming in the blue of his eyes. He’s been so good and kind to her and she tries to remind herself that she does know him even if she doesn’t remember it.

She trusted him enough to make him her emergency contact, which means she can trust him here. She just needs to remind herself that he’s _not_ a stranger to her.  

He’s just a friend she’s happened to forget.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  

He twists his mouth and Emma can tell that he doesn’t believe her. But the elevator doors open and he doesn’t say anything, just pushes her out into the hospital lobby.

She’s wheeled outside and the morning air is cool as it kisses her skin. She shivers when the breeze picks up and blows some of her hair into her face. Tucking it behind her ear, she watches as Killian rushes to open the passenger side door of a medium sized gray car. He turns back to her as if he’s about to help her up but Emma shakes her head.

“I can manage.” She gives him a reassuring smile and pushes herself up out of the chair, trying not to cringe as a flaming pain sears across her ribs.

“Swan,” Killian protests as he stands beside her and hesitates with his hands hovering, ready to catch her. “Let me help.”

“It’s literally two feet away, Killian. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t argue but he doesn’t leave her side, watching her carefully as she walks with slow and delicate steps to the car. Taking hold of the grab handle she lowers herself into the seat and lifts her legs inside. Sighing with relief, she rests her head back against the headrest and closes her eyes.

She waits until after she hears the slam of her own door shutting and the sound of Killian getting in on the other side before she opens them again.  

“So…” Emma says as Killian turns the keys in the ignition and puts the car in drive before pulling out of the patient pickup area. “Where exactly do I live?”

The muscles in Killian’s jaw jump as he clenches his teeth, and the longer it takes for him to say something the more Emma finds herself narrowing her eyes.

It was a simple question. It shouldn’t be that hard to answer.

“I actually don’t know where you live.” Killian keeps his eyes on the road, refusing to look at her as those muscles near his ears twitch a few more times.

Emma’s eyes widen, and she wishes she could say she didn’t hear him correctly. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? How do you not know where I live?” Her voice rises with each word and by the end she’s shouting, her tone sharp and clipped.

She hadn’t intended to yell. But she’s had a lot thrown at her the past few days and she supposes the anxiety and uncertainty has finally built up and boiled over.

_What does he mean he doesn’t know where she lives?_

How can you claim to know someone and know something as trivial as what they like to eat for lunch, but not know where they live?

How is she supposed to know he’s not some madman who roams hospitals searching for the next amnesiac patient to be his victim? All she has to base off what their relationship is to each other is from what he’s told her.

Killian sighs. “I don’t know where you live because you moved recently and never got around to telling people where you ran off too.” Unlike hers, his voice is even and calm as he checks his blind spot and merges onto the freeway.

Okay, that definitely seems like something she would do, but still.  

“How do I know you’re not some mass murderer?” She turns so her back is against the door and crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Mass murderer?” He has the nerve to laugh, though it sounds more exasperated than anything. “Please, Swan, have a little faith.”

“Prove you’re who you say you are and I’ll consider it.”

His eyes flit between her and the road a few times as a small smile inches up his face, as though he finds her whole little display of irritation amusing. “Alright, I’ll play. If I were a mass murderer would I know that before moving to Boston you lived in New York and worked as a bail bonds person?” 

Emma scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Anyone can learn anything on the internet these days. I need something more personal.”

“Okay,” Killian appeases. “Let’s see…” He’s quiet and his teeth scrape over his bottom lip as he thinks. “Hot chocolate is your drink of choice and you take it with whipped cream and cinnamon—which I must admit the flavor has grown on me. You hate commercials and will flip to another channel until they’re over just so you don’t have to watch them.” The corner of his lips tip up in a smile as he rattles of these small facts about her, but his expression grows more serious as he continues. “Sometimes when you’re stressed you like to walk along the harbor and watch the sunset because it calms you. Or paint. You love to paint. And that also usually does the trick when you have a lot of things on your mind. And you pretend to hate your birthday but really you just wish you’d grown up with someone who loved you enough to celebrate it.” He meets her gaze with a soft expression. “I can keep going if you wish.”

Emma feels as if her eyes are locked with his, and she’s both unable to say anything or look away. It’s only when Killian breaks eye contact to look at the road again that she releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and turns to stare out the window.

“That won’t be necessary,” she whispers.

So maybe he does know her.

And maybe she feels a little vulnerable because of it. 

She’s not sure how long she watches as the world outside the car flies past them in a whirl of color. The speed in which things soar past her feels a lot like the memoires she’s lost. There for a fleeting moment, but gone before she has the chance to recognize them. Becoming part of a past she can’t unlock as she continues unbidden to a future just as equally uncertain.

How do you live a life that’s seemingly skipped ahead without you?

Killian clears his throat and Emma jumps slightly, flinching when it sends pain shooting across her ribs, and turns to find Killian turning off the ignition and opening his door. Before he steps out he gives her a kind smile that looks far too understanding. “We’re here, love.” 

She hadn’t even realized they’d stopped.

Emma leans forward to peer out the dashboard at a sleek apartment building. It’s nice. She’s not sure where she was expecting him to live but it probably wasn’t in an apartment building as high end as this one appears to be.  

Her door opens before she can even reach for the handle and Killian appears on the other side of it offering her his hand. She almost doesn’t take it, determined to get out and manage everything on her own, but her aching body convinces her otherwise. 

Slipping her hand into his, she lets him pull her up and out of the car. If anything, her ribs appreciate his gentleness as he does so.

There’s a bit of awkwardness once she’s standing on her own, and in a move that is anything but subtle, Emma pulls her hand free from his. There is the tiniest shift in Killian’s eyes, and Emma doesn’t need to know him to recognize the hurt he’s trying to keep hidden. 

“So…” she says, trying to think of some way to dispel the strange tension between them. “This is your place?”

Killian looks over his shoulder at the building. “Yeah.” Turning his attention back to her he tilts his head to the side, one eye scrunching shut as he scratches behind his ear. “It is. There’s a spare bedroom you can use for as long as you need.”

_Or for as long as you’re a walking case of memory loss._

It’s not what he says, but he doesn’t need to. Where else is she supposed to go?

* * *

She insists on walking up to his apartment on her own, despite Killian’s repeated offers to help. But they haven’t even made it to the elevator before she’s already regretting the decision. But she grits her teeth against the pain and the oncoming exhaustion. Because surgery or not, it’s only a few feet, and she doesn’t want to admit it’s making her _this_ tired.

He lives on the eighth floor and Emma doesn’t think she’s ever been more grateful for an elevator in her life. Killian keeps eyeing her as she leans her tired body against the elevators cold wall, and she’s not blind to the way he hovers next to her as they walk. It’s probably a good thing. Especially since the longer it takes to get to his door the heavier her breathing becomes and the more she doubts if she actually has the strength to make it on her own.

And collapsing right now probably isn’t the best idea. The last thing she needs is to tear open her stitches or something.

She follows him to a door with a nice shiny _826_ resting in the center of it, and watches as he fumbles for a second with his keys before unlocking the door and pushing it open. He steps aside, raising an eyebrow at her, and gestures for her to go inside ahead of him.

But she hesitates. She just stands there and stares at his apartment with feet that don’t seem to want to move. She can feel Killian’s presence behind her, and this man must have an endless supply of patience because he doesn’t say anything as she stands there for an amount of time that is entirely too long to be socially acceptable.  

When she does finally step into the apartment it’s with a deep breath and slow steps, and she only makes it a few feet inside before she’s pulling to a stop in the entryway, her lips parting slightly as she takes in his living quarters.

The first thing she notices is that it’s almost meticulous in how clean it is. The second is that it really is a beautiful apartment.

To her right is a nice sized living room decorated with dark and polished furniture. The entirety of one wall is made completely out of floor to ceiling windows and sunlight pours through them giving the entire room an open and airy feel. Little knick-knacks, books, and a few plants lay carefully placed throughout the room, and a large flat screen sits in the corner next to a medium sized painting of an ocean horizon—the soft strokes of blues, pinks, and oranges, breathing a certain life into the room.

On her left is a decent sized kitchen, whose dark woods contrast nicely with the sleek silver appliances. A set of hanging light fixtures float above a kitchen island, and a dining table that looks like it could fit four people on a good day rests in its own little nook at the edge of the room.

Nestled between these two rooms is a darkened hallway that leads somewhere deeper into the home of Killian Jones.

“Would you like to sit down, love?”

His voice is quiet behind her and Emma gives her head a small shake to clear her thoughts before responding. “Yeah...uh that would be great.”

Walking to the sofa Emma lowers herself down onto the soft cushions, the relief she feels is instantaneous and she groans as she relaxes against it. Walking from the car really had taken more out of her than she was expecting, and if she were to close her eyes she’s sure she could fall asleep this very second.

She can hear Killian rummaging around in the kitchen behind her. And soon enough he’s in front of her and offering her a glass of water.

“Thanks,” she smiles at him as she takes the glass, drinking half of it on the first go.

Killian sits in a seat across from her, sighing as he does so. He’s staring at something, his eyes holding a far off look as if he’s in another place and time entirely. Turning her head she follows his gaze to the painting hanging on the wall. It’s beautiful, and she wishes she could say there was something— _anything_ —familiar about it, but she can’t. Nothing in this apartment is familiar to her.

Eventually Killian clears his throat, shaking his head as he pulls himself out of whatever reverie he was lost in.

“I went out and got you a few things the other day.” He says, dragging his hand down his face as he meets her gaze. “Just some stuff for your bathroom and some clothes so you’ll be comfortable. We can go out and get more in a few days if you wish.”

Emma simply nods her head and tries her best to give him a grateful smile. This man cares about her. That much is clear. But the anxious concern in his eyes is doing nothing but overwhelming her. And though he deserves more than the few words and open stares she’s given him today, she’s _tired,_ and she doesn’t have the energy to deal with this at the moment.

A heavy silence presses between them, and Emma fiddles with the now empty glass in her hands, doing her best to ignore the way her eyes are starting to sting.

She’s not going to cry.

Not here in front of him at least.

Steeling herself with another deep breath, Emma blinks to keep whatever tears may be forming at bay and looks up at Killian. He’s looking at her with a furrowed brow, worry swirling in the depth of his eyes, and this is all just too much for one day.

She’s about one minute from completely falling apart and she yearns for a moment alone more than anything.

Emma swallows and places her glass on the coffee table in front of her. Wracking her brain for some way to tell him she wants to be alone without actually saying it. She doesn’t want to seem ungrateful for all he’s done, but she’s not sure how much longer she can hold everything in, especially with him sitting here looking like he’s ready to move a mountain if it means it would help her feel better.

She gets an idea, though, and she all but blurts it out, surprising both herself and him with how quick the words leave her mouth. “I’d really like to take a shower.”

Her words came out of nowhere, but the more she thinks about it the more she realizes that yes, this is what she needs—a long relaxing shower with nothing but her thoughts and the water pounding against her skin for company. Not to mention she’s suddenly aware of just how dirty she feels, and she can’t even remember the last time her hair was washed.

And if she stops and thinks about it for a second she realizes she actually _can’t_ remember the last time her hair was washed.

Why is her life such a mess?

“Of course.” Killian pushes himself out of the armchair with surprising speed, his hand immediately rubbing at the back of his neck. It’s one of the things she’s noticed about him. His hand is always reaching back behind his head to do something whenever he feels uncomfortable. “Of course, love. I should’ve thought of that. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

It turns out the bathroom is right across the hall from her room and after showing her both of these things, along with a small closet where she can find the towels, Killian takes his leave and she’s left standing alone in his hallway with a towel clutched to her chest.

With a deep breath she enters the bathroom and locks the door before turning to find herself immediately face to face with her own reflection. She grimaces at the paleness of her skin and the limpness of her hair. There’s just a hint of a shadow beneath her eyes, a small cut across her brow, and a dark bruise that looks like it was caused by her seatbelt peeking out from the top of her shirt.

She’s definitely had better days.

Getting undressed is an ordeal in and of itself, because if she moves too much, or too quickly, agony slices through her, causing her to cringe and hiss in pain. And even though she peels off her pants with small, methodic movements, the action still manages to make her entire body ache.

Taking her shirt off is by far the worst part. Every angle she tries sends an intense and searing pain to her ribs. Gasping when the pain of a particular attempt leaves her breathless, Emma braces herself with both hands on the countertop and drops her head, gritting her teeth until she feels like she can breathe again.   

She’s pretty sure the only way to get it off pain free is to cut it, and seeing as she doesn’t have any scissors—and she is _not_ going to go through putting her pants back on, only to have to take them back off again, just to go find some—she decides the best way is just to get it over with. Rip it off just like a band aid.

Grabbing the hem of her shirt, Emma crosses her arms and begins to pull her shirt up and off over her head. She’s pretty sure this is what being tortured would feel like, but she bites her lip and manages to get it off with only a small whimper of pain.

Breathing as though she’d just run a mile rather than simply taken her clothes off—she drops the offending shirt to the floor and gives herself another hard look in the mirror. She turns slightly as she scans her body and frowns at what she finds. She probably has more bruises than she can count, and they range in both size and severity. The stitches at her side stretch a few inches long and she’s sure they’ll leave a nice little scar as a souvenir once they’ve healed. 

Emma is by no means a stranger to injury, but this one definitely takes the cake.

Turning the water on as hot as she can stand it, Emma steps into the shower and lets the water beat against her, being careful not to get her stitches too wet.

She’s not sure how long she stays in there, but it’s long enough that the water begins to cool off a couple of times and she has to keep turning the nozzle farther to the left to keep the water hot. But the heat relaxes her aching muscles and she likes to think that it washes away all of the tension, heartache, and confusion she’s felt in the last few days.

But it doesn’t get rid of everything. Not quite.

She still feels like she’s drowning from the inside out. Floundering as the pressure builds inside her and presses against her as it seeks a way out. She’d felt the beginnings of it at the hospital but she’d been able to push it down, and for some reason actually leaving made everything real. This is all real. There’s a part of her life that’s supposed to be hers, but it isn’t, not really. But in some weird way she mourns it. She feels like she’s lost something, can feel its absence even though she’s not really sure what she had in the first place.

And it’s confusing as hell.

She closes her eyes and feels the tears that start to slip through her closed lids. And finally, in the safety of her own solitude, Emma lets herself fall apart. And that pressure inside her finally finds its release as her tears mix with the water that falls against her cheeks.

-CS-

Killian collapses onto his couch and drops his head into his hands with a deep sigh. He’s happy Emma is out of the hospital, he really is, but he’s not sure how he’s going to do this. Not when simply having her in his house again is bringing back all sorts of memories.

The truth of the matter is that he’s just as in love with her as he’s ever been. His heart still races when she looks at him, and his stomach still flips when he touches her. He’s still intoxicated by her very presence. And this only makes things harder when he’s trying to be nothing more than the friend she needs.

He doesn’t know how to sit by her and not ache to brush her hair out of her face, skim his lips against her ear, or touch her in some way. And this longing only serves to intensify his heartache, because he’s not sure that even with her memories Emma feels as he does. He thought she had at one point. But having the love of your life walk out on you in the middle of the night unexpectedly, and then not hearing from them in months, carves out its own type of scars.

But this isn’t about what he feels. It’s about what Emma needs.

He hears the echo of water pounding against tile as the shower turns on. And with another deep breath he leans back against the couch and stares up at the ceiling.

_It’s about what Emma needs._

He can do that. He can keep his own feelings to himself. Emma doesn’t need any more confusion added to her recovery, and revealing the complications of their relationships at this point in time will probably do more harm than good.

What she needs right now is rest, and probably some food, and these are things he can help with.            

Pushing himself off of the couch and wandering to the kitchen, he begins pulling out a pot and some raw noodles. He figures he’ll make something quick and simple like spaghetti in the hopes that it’ll done by the time Emma is out of the shower. 

He’s a decent cook—at least he likes to thinks so. Emma had never been one to go out of her way to make extravagant meals, she’d always been happy with just about anything, and having cereal for dinner multiple times a week was not uncommon for her. And as a result he was usually the one that ended up cooking, though Emma was always willing to help.

And as he waits for the water to boil he tries not to think of meals that took too long to make, or ended up burnt because of how they often spent more time kissing than actually cooking.

It doesn’t take long to get everything made and he’s just finished setting everything at the dining table when he hears the soft fall of footsteps across the tiled floor behind him.

Turning slowly he takes in Emma standing in the middle of his kitchen, looking like she’s not quite sure what to do with herself. She bites her lip as she reaches up to tuck her wet hair behind her ear. She’s wearing a pair of the sweatpants he’d bought her, but instead of one of her own shirts, she’s got on one of his flannel button ups, the sleeves rolled up just enough to let her hands peek out. 

Memories of mornings with her donning one of his shirts in a similar fashion wash over him—though in those instances there was a significant lack of pants—and just like that his heart beats with that familiar longing.

And damn it, he’s not very good at this whole pushing aside his feelings thing.

Emma begins shifting her weight anxiously, her eyes dropping to look at the floor, and Killian takes this as an indicator that he’s probably been staring at her too long. Blinking a few times he gives his head a shake and tries to get his thoughts back on track.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks, and in spite of the rush of memories her attire brings, he can’t help but smile a bit at the way the shirt swallows her. She definitely looks more comfortable.

She hesitates a second before answering, “Uh…yeah. Thank you. Sorry I didn’t ask first.” She gestures to the flannel she’s wearing and gives a tiny shrug. “It’s just that right now buttons are a lot easier to manage than pulling a shirt over my head.”

Killian feels his smile start to slip, that’s definitely something he should have thought of. “Of course, Swan. You’re welcome to anything here. I apologize. I should’ve thought to get you more options.”  

“No, no, it’s fine,” she rushes to assure him before sighing. “I’m fine.” 

She folds her arms in front of her and looks over towards the living room and the silence that settles between them is awkward at best. And it’s a new experience for him because even when they first met there was rarely any awkwardness.

Killian scratches at his ear and clears his throat, and when Emma looks back at him he gives a tight smile. “Are you hungry?”

He watches as her eyes flit to the table behind him before she nods once and attempts a polite smile—but it’s more sad than anything.

He pulls out a chair for her and then settles himself down at the other side of the table. Emma is slower to sit down, and he watches as she moves gingerly towards the table and lowers herself into the chair with a cautious delicateness. And his heart aches at the pain she’s still in and he has to fight the instinct to get up and help her. Because if anything, he knows this Emma Swan, he can see the same caution in her eyes that was there when he first met her. He’d spent months breaking down those walls of hers, and if anything he knows how guarded she can be.

He knows that what she probably wants from him right now is space.  

“Thank you,” she says as she picks up her fork. “It smells delicious.”

“Anything for you, Swan.” He sends her a lavish wink in the hopes to loosen the tense air around them, and he’s rewarded when she rolls her eyes and the corners of her lips tip up in a small, but genuine smile.

It’s only a small victory, but he’ll take it.

They eat in absolute silence. And Emma’s gaze stays glued to the noodles she’s spinning on her fork for the majority of the meal, and this leaves Killian’s own gaze free to linger on her. More than once he watches as she discreetly wipes at her eyes, and he curses whatever powers that be, that he feels like he can’t reach across the table to comfort her.

When she finishes and begins to stand up with her plate, Killian finally breaks the silence hanging over them. “Don’t worry about the dishes, love. I’ll get them.” Without waiting for a response he stands and grabs both of their plates and walks over to set them in the sink. He doesn’t bother turning on the water—he’ll wash them later.

“I’m tired,” Emma says when he turns back around to face her. Water clings to her eyes, and Killian swears he can see his own heart shattering in their reflection. “I’m going to head to bed, but thank you for dinner.”

Killian nods. “I’m just down the hall if you need anything.” 

 As she leaves the room Killian leans against the counter top and closes his eyes with a sigh. This entire situation is going to be a lot harder than he ever anticipated.


	4. Chapter 4

Killian hardly gets any sleep that night, and it’s not for a lack of trying. The whole night feels like a teasing game of hide and seek, and all he wants to do is find a full night’s rest without feeling like he’s waking up every couple of hours. But sleep continually slips out of his grasp and he’s left alternating between tossing and turning, or staring through the darkness up at his ceiling.

He knows where his restlessness comes from, and it’s a complicated layer of things, but when stripped down and left bare it really all comes down to one simple word.

_Emma._

If he thinks about it, all his lack of sleep these days has had to do with her in some way or another. The night after she first left is still a painful blur of a memory, but he easily recalls the way he’d done nothing but tangle his sheets as he tossed and turned all night, kept up by the glimmer of a hope that maybe she’d return tomorrow.

She didn’t, and he’d spent many nights afterwards trying to learn how to sleep alone again.  His bed somehow suddenly too big and the nights suddenly too long.

But this time it’s not the stinging sensation that radiates from within his heart as he longs to hold her that is keeping him up. This time it’s an entirely different ache, heavy and deep, that leaves him anxious as he considers everything.

He wants to help Emma heal, but he’s not sure how. He wants to do everything he can to help her regain her memories, but at the same time he’s terrified of losing her again once she does remember. And it’s thoughts like these that steal his sleep.

_Just take it a day at a time._

That’s what his brother had said to do, and bloody hell he was going to try his best.

But even with that conviction it doesn’t make sleep come any easier.

Too soon, the morning sun is spilling into his room and he groans as he grabs one of his pillows to cover his face from the offending light. 

He’s typically a morning person, but right now he just wants to curse whoever decided there would only be so many hours of darkness each night.

It’s with an exaggerated amount of reluctance that Killian lifts the pillow from his face and reaches for his phone to check the time. It’s early, but he’s not sleeping anyways so he might as well get up.

With a groan he sits up and rubs a hand along his scruff as he tries to shake the tiredness from his bones. Before he stands he takes a long look at his closed door and sighs. Emma’s just beyond that door, and it feels like ages since she’s been this close to him, but at the same time she’s never been farther away.

He gives his head a frustrated shake; he really needs to stop doing this. He needs to stop dwelling on the past, and stop overthinking everything, and he needs to focus on how to be here for Emma.

_Just take it a day at a time._

He can do this.

He just might need a hot shower to clear his head and some coffee to wake him up first.

-CS-

Emma’s groggy as she peels her eyes open and stares blearily at the world in front of her. It takes her a second to remember where she is, her brain taking a little longer to wake up than the rest of her. She feels heavy and still tired somehow, though she’d slept so deeply she doesn’t even remember dreaming. Which surprises her—she’d half expected to get no sleep at all, she’d certainly gone to bed with enough on her mind, but her body must have needed the sleep badly enough that it overrode her racing thoughts.

Gingerly she stands and begins making her way to the bathroom. She can’t tell if her aching body and searing ribs feel better or worse after not moving all night. But she breathes deeply and forces her muscles to move, and by the time she’s in front of the mirror walking is already a little easier.

Tilting her head as she looks at herself she sighs and reaches for the toothbrush Killian bought her and begins brushing her teeth.

She’s definitely looked better.

Everything about her right now is a mess—life and appearance included. Her hair is in tangles, and the way it’s standing a little taller on one side is a testament as to why she shouldn’t sleep on it wet. And then there’s the matter of the obvious bags under her eyes that match so well with the bruises she’s already sporting.

But as she finishes brushing her teeth and begins to drag a brush through the knots in her hair she can’t really find it within herself to care much this morning.

After putting her hair in a simple side braid, Emma exits the bathroom and makes her way down the hall. She can smell something delicious, and as she enters the kitchen she’s greeted with the sight of Killian silently flipping pancakes at the stove.

Even through the soft material of his t-shirt she can see the broad expanse of his back and shoulder muscles, and she finds herself a little distracted by the way they move as he shifts a bit on his feet. He must be fresh out of the shower because there’s a bit of delicious water still clinging to his hair.

 She feels the slightest fluttering in her stomach, and though she might not remember him, she’s not _blind._

Pulling herself onto one of the barstools, she bites her lip against a groan as the effort sends flames licking up her side. Once settled she rests her forearms on the countertop and inhales a deep breath through her nose. Killian finally seems to hear her and turns around, a light smile lifting his lips.

And she’ll deny it, but the fluttering in her stomach picks up just a little bit.

“Morning, Swan. How are you feeling?”

“Much the same,” she says with a tiny shrug. Though terrible would be a better answer, everything hurts and she feels a little lost and overwhelmed, but he already looks at her with concern dripping off every inch of him and she doesn’t need to amplify it. She’ll be fine. She’s always been able to manage on her own.

Though it’s not like she really has a choice at the moment—Killian’s all she really has. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go and anything else she might have had or anyone else she might have known, she certainly doesn’t remember.

And she tries not to dwell on this, because when she thinks about all the things she’s forgotten, all the things everyone expects her to remember, she feels like she’s being buried alive. And every time she’s confronted with something that she’s supposed to know but doesn’t, is just the sand being packed on a little tighter above her.

It’s somehow suffocating and lonely all at once.

Closing her eyes she inhales through her nose slowly before blowing the air out through her lips as she tries to focus on something other than her memory loss. She needs a distraction, and so opening her eyes, she returns her attention to watching Killian move about the kitchen.

Resting her head in her hand, she tilts her head as she considers him. “I’m surprised you have time to make pancakes, don’t you have work or something?”

“Today’s Sunday,” he says as he briefly turns to check on the pancakes in question before turning back to face her. “And I figured both of us could use some pancakes. What do you want in yours? I have blueberries, chocolate chips, bananas…”

He trails off with an arch of his eyebrow as he waits for her response. And dropping her hand back to the counter, she stares at the swirls in the granite before answering—because if she were to guess, then he probably already knows what she likes in her pancakes.

“Don’t you already know that answer?” And she doesn’t mean it to, but her question comes out sad and small. She really is trying not to let this memory loss thing bother her, and this is such a small and inconsequential thing, but she can’t help the way her chest tightens because of it.

“I do,” he answers gently, softness and understanding shining in his eyes. “But you don’t remember telling me, so I’m asking.”

Emma can’t do much but blink at him for a moment, he’s constantly blowing her away with his kindness, and she’s continually caught off guard with how aware of her he seems to be. How he just seems to _know_ what it is she needs, even when it’s something she’s not sure how to articulate. How he can just tell that she’s overwhelmed, that she needs to feel as though she has at least _some_ control over what he knows about her.

She licks her lips and blinks a few more times as she tries to stop staring at him. “Chocolate chips. I… uh like chocolate chips.”

“Chocolate it is then.”

He smiles again and Emma continues to stare at him as he makes his way over to a cupboard and pulls out the small bag of chocolate.

Unexpected tears begin to gather in her eyes and Emma reaches up quickly to brush them away. Doing her best to blink the remaining water out of her eyes before Killian can turn around and look at her again.

Who knew having amnesia would make her so emotional?

She feels a little frayed, like her insides are exposed and vulnerable. 

Taking a deep breath to gain control of herself again, she smooths her palms over the cold granite and straightens her spine before lifting her gaze to watch Killian cook.

It occurs to her that maybe doing something that keeps her hands busy will help keep her mind off of everything else. And so turning in the barstool she carefully slides off it and makes her way around the center island.

“Can I help?” she asks as soon as she’s standing next to him.

Killian must not have noticed her approaching because he jumps a little before turning towards her. Immediately his eyes travel along her face, lingering on her lips before finally meeting her eyes. He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything, closing it suddenly as he lifts a hand to scratch behind his ear.

“Of course, Swan.” He seems a little flustered as he turns his head from side to side, searching the counter for something. Spotting what he needs, Killian snatches the spatula from its spot beside the stove and offers it to her. “You can flip the pancakes, I’ll…uh get the table set.”

He leaves her and Emma turns her attention to the pancakes heating in the skillet. They’re bubbling and look about ready to flip and so she slips the spatula beneath one of them and lifts it slightly to check.  Deciding it looks golden brown enough, she slides the spatula completely under and flips it.

It sizzles loudly as the uncooked side meets the heat of the skillet and Emma smiles slightly to herself. This is what she needs, something normal, something to distract her from dwelling on how much she’s seemingly forgotten.

Soon enough she’s helping Killian bring everything to the table and pouring syrup all over her already sweetened pancakes. Much like their last meal they don’t say much, and only the sound of their silverware clinking against their plate’s echoes through the apartment. 

As a result, the sudden knock that pounds against the front door seems to reverb off the walls as it cuts through the silence that had settled over them.

Emma snaps her head up, looking over at the door before turning her attention to Killian. His forehead creases as a slight frown forms on his lips while he looks towards the front of the apartment.

“I didn’t tell anyone to come over,” he half mumbles to himself as he places his fork down and pushes his chair back to stand up.

He saunters barefooted to the front door and opens it.

“David? Mary Margaret? What are you guys doing here?”

Curious, Emma turns a little more in her seat and cranes her neck to try and see who is at the door.

A small woman, with black, pixie cut hair, stands on her tiptoes as she hugs Killian briefly before pushing her way into the apartment.

“Killian, how’re you guys doing? I’ve been a mess since you called and told us what happened. I wanted to come sooner, but David said Emma probably wouldn’t even be out of the hospital yet. But I wanted to make sure you guys are okay. Do you need anything? I can always make dinner and bring it by.”

The woman says this all a little breathlessly as though she’s been bursting to get this all out for days. A taller man with blond hair follows her into the entryway. He has a baby in his arms and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder, and he chuckles lightly as he reaches out his free hand to shake with Killian’s.

“Sorry Killian, I tried to get her to wait as long as I could.”

Upon hearing the woman mention her name, Emma stands and takes a few hesitant steps towards the group gathered in the entryway.

Killian looks over at her and the concern she’s becoming very familiar with is back and swimming in his eyes. Looking back towards his friends, he steps to the side and almost completely blocks Emma from their view.

“I appreciate you guys coming over, I really do. I just don’t know if now is a good time. Emma’s still—”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret gasps, having finally seen her. She deftly steps around Killian and with a rushed stride makes her way towards Emma.

And before she can even register what exactly is happening, Mary Margaret has her arms wrapped around her, crushing her gently to her chest.

Emma stiffens, unsure of how to respond as panic surges through her and squeezes her lungs. Frantically her eyes flash towards Killian and she gives him a pleading look.  

She has a hard time opening up to people in general, and hugging is not something she’s used to, especially not with someone who feels like a stranger.

Thankfully, Mary Margaret releases her before Killian has to intervene. But the relief is short lived as the woman almost immediately replaces the hug with a gentle grasp to both of Emma’s arms.

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret gushes. “I’ve been so, so worried. The second Killian told us what happened I couldn’t stop crying. But you’ll get your memory back in no time I just know it.”

Mary Margaret smiles at her with such joy and hope that Emma stammers for a moment, overwhelmed. Luckily she’s saved from having to say anything back when David steps forward and gently places a hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder, pulling her towards him.

“Honey, I’m sure Emma’s had a lot to deal with, we don’t need to bombard her.” He turns his attention to Emma and smiles. “I’m glad you’re doing okay though, Emma. We really have been worried about you.”

“Right, of course,” Mary Margaret apologizes, stepping closer to her husband and placing a hand on her baby’s back.

The baby straightens from his spot nestled against his father’s chest and looks at Emma. Immediately she’s greeted with a gummy grin as the baby’s eyes light up and he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. He reaches for Emma, leaning out of David’s arms as he opens and closes his fingers and babbles a bit of happy nonsense.

“Oh do you remember Emma, Leo?” Mary Margaret coos at her baby before taking him in her arms and bouncing him lightly. “I’m surprised he seems to remember you it’s been a while since he’s seen you.”

Leo keeps reaching for her, and she’s worried that Mary Margaret is going to ask her to hold him, but thankfully Killian rescues her.

“Why don’t we sit down? Emma’s supposed to be resting,” Killian says just as he steps up behind her and places a hand at her back.

“Killian’s right, Emma,” David offers as he wraps an arm around Mary Margaret. “You’ll heal faster if you don’t exhaust yourself. We don’t mean to keep you on your feet, you should lie down. We promise not to stay too long.”

And with a kiss to his wife’s head David leads Mary Margaret and baby Leo towards the living room.

Emma’s insides turn to ice, keeping her frozen in place as she watches the little family situate themselves on one of Killian’s little loveseats. 

_She can’t do this._

She doesn’t _know_ any of this.

She flinches slightly when she feels Killian lean down and put his head close to her ear. “Are you okay, love?”

Emma looks at him and she knows he has to see the distress on her face considering she has no energy at the moment to cover it up—but she doesn’t know how to answer so she simply nods, even though she’s anything but _okay._

It feels like there’s not enough space in her chest. Like something is preventing her lungs from fully expanding, and she can’t get enough air because of it.

Killian’s forehead furrows and he opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but Emma shakes her head quickly and looks up at him pleadingly.

_Please, not now. She can’t handle anymore. She just needs someone to let her be._

He seems to understand, because he closes his mouth and presses his lips into a thin line before sighing and dragging a hand down his face as though he’s equally distressed by this whole thing.

Numbly she lets Killian guide her to the couch, accepting the blanket he hands her. She sets it on her lap without unfolding it and breathes slowly, trying to ease the tightness in her chest as she looks at Mary Margaret and David giggling at little Leo.

“What’s Liam been up to?” David asks Killian once they’re all settled. “I feel like I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Killian’s still looking at Emma with worry pressing on his features and it’s almost like he has to physically drag his gaze away from her to look at David and answer. “Much the same. He’s become quite smitten with a girl at work. Elsa, I think is her name.”

“Oh he should bring her by sometime.” Mary Margaret exclaims as she bounces Leo up and down lightly on her knee, her fingers in the baby’s grasp. “We could have a little get together at our house, it’s been a little while since we’ve had one.” She turns her attention to Emma, smiling gently. “Everyone’s so glad you’re okay, Emma. I was just talking to Ruby the other day and she wants you to know she’s hoping you’ll be better soon. So many people are anxious to see you again. I think dinner would be the perfect opportunity.”

 “Mary Margaret,” David interrupts. “I’m sure Emma’s not quite ready for that yet.”

“Oh yes, of course. I mean, obviously I didn’t mean right _now_ , but maybe after your physical injuries have healed. I know Belle is anxious to see you. Regina and Robin will also probably want to come, and Killian you can make sure Liam brings this Elsa.  It can just be a small thing. We can even just do appetizers if not everyone’s up for dinner.”

And with the more names Mary Margaret mentions the farther away she sounds, until Emma feels as if she’s listening to her speak from under water. How many more people is she going to have to pretend like she remembers?

Looking down at the blanket in her lap, Emma feels her eyes start to water.

_She can’t do this._

She’s completely lost track of the conversation, but when she looks up she can see Killian gazing at her anxiously from the corner of her eye.

“I’m very tired,” she says suddenly, effectively cutting off whoever was speaking before her. She just needs some way to get out of this room, to get away from all of this.  “I think I’m going to go take a nap.”

She moves to stand but Mary Margaret and David beat her too it.

“No, Emma stay, we don’t want to make you move. We’ll head out,” David says, placing his hand at Mary Margaret’s back.

It’s hard not to feel as though everything is pressing in on her. What with the way David’s looking at her with nothing but kindness and Mary Margaret gazes at her with an almost motherly concern as she shifts Leo in her arms, the baby babbling happily as he chews on his fingers. Then there’s the matter of Killian sitting in the corner, she doesn’t even have to look at him to know his eyes are drilling anxious holes through her.

They all obviously care for her, so overwhelmed or not, she does her best to smile and hopes it doesn’t come out too shaky.

Killian follows the little family to the door, and they exchange goodbyes that she can’t really hear. She hears the door click shut and the silence that follows is blissful.  Closing her eyes, Emma sighs as she leans back against the couch. 

“Swan, I’m so sorry about that. I had no idea they were coming over. David’s my mate from college and—” He cuts off with loud sigh and Emma opens her eyes in time to see him running a hand through his hair as he looks up at the ceiling. “I should’ve said something to them beforehand. I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t respond. Only because the tightness in her chest hasn’t quite left and she can feel the pressure behind her eyes start to build again, a tear finally slipping free as she looks out the window in front of her. And she’s scared that if she says anything she’ll completely lose what little control she has.

“Emma…I…Can I get you anything?” Killian asks, clearly struggling with a way to try and help her.

With a sigh Emma looks up at him, and she recognizes the torment on his features. This clearly isn’t just hard on her, but she’s not sure how to do anything but try to keep herself from drowning.

“Killian…I think I’d just like to be alone right now.”

His brow furrows and she’s almost certain that the anxious crease between his eyebrows is going to become permanent. “Of course—you can stay out here, there’s a T.V. and I have some things I can get done in my room. Let me just get you your medicine first.”

He does it quickly, disappearing for only a moment before returning with pills and a glass of water that he places on the table in front of her.   

“Don’t hesitate to let me know what you need, Swan.” He smiles at her, but like at the hospital it’s more of just a sad lift of his lips, and the smile Emma offers in return isn’t any better.

As he leaves, she reaches for her medicine and takes all three pills in one swallow before putting the glass back down and resting her head in her hands.

_She can’t do this._

Her tears come freely now and she wipes at them as she sits up, gasping as she tries to breathe properly. But the tension in her chest only tightens.

 She needs to breathe. She needs _air._

Looking around the room she spots Killian’s keys resting on a small table by the door. And not even thinking twice, she pulls herself to standing and hurries to the front door as quickly as her injured body will allow. Snatching the keys off the table, she curls her fingers around them and brings them to her chest, closing her eyes as she tries to settle her racing heart.

She needs to be alone, she needs to think, needs to breathe. And she can’t do that here, not at the moment.

And so with a final shaky breath, Emma opens her eyes and looks back at Killian’s apartment for only a moment before slipping out the front door.     


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love I've gotten for this fic. I really love this chapter and I'm really excited to share it, so I hope you enjoy it too!

It’s been over an hour since their disaster of a morning and Killian left Emma alone. He’s strategically been keeping himself as busy and as far away from the living room as possible. Taking turns wandering between his room and his office, and resisting every desperate urge inside him to check on her.

She’d said she’d needed space and he’s respecting that—no matter how hard that may be, and no matter how badly he aches to be there beside her to comfort her. Because he knows she’s hurting in ways that go beyond just the physical, and it’s like a sharp knife in his heart knowing that she’s suffering just a few rooms away from him.

Especially since he’s sitting in front of his computer and doing absolutely nothing to alleviate that pain.

With a long sigh he pushes himself away from his desk and stands. Reaching up, he runs his fingers through his already disheveled hair for what probably makes the thousandth time that day, and contemplates what to do.

He’s given her over an hour—that’s enough time to breathe and collect oneself isn’t it? And all he wants to do is check on her. Make sure everything’s alright, even if it’s just for a moment. He’ll go under the guise of needing a glass of water from the kitchen or something, just enough of a reason to go in and see what she’s doing and see if she needs anything.

Slipping out of his office, he begins to make his way through the hallway. There are no windows to shine light into the hall, and the slight darkness only adds to the unnerving stillness that greets him. He’s a little put off by it. He’d half expected to hear the T.V. running or some other noise, but instead he’s greeted with absolute silence.  

“Swan?” he calls softly as he gets closer to the front of the apartment, keeping his voice down in case she’s sleeping.

He receives no response, and as he takes the last few steps out of the hallway and looks toward the front room he doesn’t see her either

Smiling to himself, Killian inches a little closer to the couch.  She must have fallen asleep and he’s happy she’s finally getting the rest she needs.

Leaning forward just a tad, Killian peers over the edge of the couch only to stop short. His stomach clenches, and he feels his mouth fall open as he blinks at the empty cushions.

_She’s not there._

Panic immediately claws up his throat, and he swallows as he tries to push it back down. He’s probably jumping to conclusions, but he can’t help the way his eyes dart around the room as though she’ll magically appear if he looks for her hard enough. But all that remains is her empty water glass and the blanket he’d given her earlier, which still sits folded and unused where she left it.  

Trying _not_ to run, Killian hurries to her bedroom door and raps a few quick knocks on the closed door. Once again, silence greets him and he knocks once more just to be sure before pushing the door open.

Much like the living room, her room is empty.  

“Bloody hell,” he whispers to himself as he drags both hands down his face.

He’s experienced this all one too many times, and devastating memories of the first time this happened suddenly flood through him, threatening to overtake him.

Flashes of his house, quiet and empty, of Emma gone. The loss, the confusion, all surge through him again.

_This can’t be happening again_.

He searches the rest of his apartment like a madman. The storm he feels inside him coming out in how rapidly he rushes from room to room, making sure he hasn’t missed her by accident.

But even after checking each room twice, she still isn’t there.

Killian closes his eyes and swallows thickly. Breathing deeply he finds control of himself and finds reason somewhere in the depths of his torrential thoughts. This _isn’t_ like last time. This time he knows why she left, and this time he’s going to find her.

Because what overpowers the feelings of his own distress, is his concern for Emma—she is in no shape to be running off on her own. She’s injured, and hurting, and without memories.

And he needs a way to find her.

Shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through his messages until he finds Liam’s name.

_Killian: I need you to come to my apartment. Right now._  

Not even ten seconds later his brother is replying.

_Liam: I’m on my way. What’s going on?_

With a breath of relief Killian closes his eyes. He can always count on his brother to come when he needs him to. It helps that he’s no more than a five minute drive away, but he knows that even if there were hours that separated them, Liam would drop everything to be there for him.

_Killian: I’ll explain when you get here._

Not looking for another response, Killian thrusts the phone back inside his pocket and jogs to his room. He’s quick to locate his shoes and jacket, hurriedly pulling them on before rushing back to the living room.  And with nothing better to do but wait for his brother to arrive, he takes to pacing in front of the window and keeping a lookout for Liam’s black sedan.

Five minutes, it seems, can last an eternity when you’re counting each second.

Eventually, when he realizes the pacing may only be making the tension and anxiety inside him worse, Killian slumps down onto the couch and sighs as he drops his head into his hands. He should’ve seen this coming; he knew how overwhelmed she was. He should’ve offered her an alternative—he has no bloody clue what that alternative would have been, but he should have found something.

Because this is what Emma does, and he _knows_ her, he knows her tendency to run, and he did nothing to help her deal with what she was feeling. Maybe if he had she wouldn’t be off on her own and more than likely risking herself further injury.

The sound of his front door opening without so much as a knock pulls him from his thoughts, and he immediately snaps his head up to look towards the door where Liam is stepping into his apartment.

“I need to borrow your car,” Killian says without ceremony, already standing and working his way around the couch.

Liam holds up his hands and furrows his brow as he looks his brother up and down. And Killian’s sure that if he looks anywhere near as frenzied as he feels, then he must look like quite the sight.

“Whoa, slow down there, Killian. Mind explaining what this is all about? I get nothing but a single text from you saying that you need me to come over _right now,_ as you so promptly put it, and now you don’t even give me a chance to walk through the door before you’re asking for my keys? What is going on? What happened to your car?”

“Emma has it.”

“Emma—”

“Has it. Yes.” Killian tries not to show just how desperate he’s really feeling as he holds out his hand and waits for Liam to hand him is keys.

His brother cocks an eyebrow at him but doesn’t move and Killian groans in absolute frustration.

“Listen, I really don’t have time to explain everything. Emma could be anywhere and she doesn’t have her memories, and she’s still hurt, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a jacket and it’s starting to get cold at night. So _please_ , Liam, just give me your keys.”

Liam frowns as he shoves his hand into his jean pocket, and though Killian can hear the keys clinking against each other, he doesn’t quite pull them out yet.

Killian clenches his jaw. He does not have time to for this. Emma could be anywhere and she can’t even bloody walk without so much as wincing, and the longer he waits the harder it’s going to be to find her.

Liam must see his agitation because he sighs before pulling his hand out of his pocket, his fingers wrapped securely around Killian’s only hope of finding Emma.

“I’ll give them to you, I promise. Just tell me what’s going on first.”

Groaning, Killian drags a hand down his face and sits back slightly against the edge of the couch. His brother is stubborn, and if the only way he’s going to give up his car keys is if he gets some answers, then it’s better for Killian to just give him some quick information.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve told everyone to give her space, give her time to readjust. I didn’t think anyone was going to come over before she’d even been home a full twenty-four hours. But Mary Margaret and David came, and it was just too much too soon. I could see her panicking and so when she asked to be alone I went in my room, didn’t come out for over an hour, but when I did she was gone.”

“Killian—”

Liam sighs and puts his hand on Killian’s shoulder and there’s just a little _too much_ empathy in his eyes, as if he knows that this whole thing is like some horrible déjà vu of the last time she left. But Killian is trying his best to not let those memories tear through and devour him at the moment so he shrugs his brother off and lifts his hand, silently asking for the keys again.

Because unlike last time, Emma’s not exactly in the best shape to be running off and trying to manage on her own. And the thought of her suffering even just a moment is killing him.

“Alright,” Liam nods before placing his keys in Killian’s palm.

Clenching his fist around them, Killian exhales as a tiny bit of the tension in his chest eases. He can find her, it hasn’t been too long. He just can’t waste any more time.

“Thank you, Liam,” he says before stepping around his brother and pulling open the front door. He’s just stepping into the hallway when Liam speaks again.

“Of course, little brother, it’s what I’m here for. Just drop the car off at my place after you find her. I can walk home from here.”

Turning toward him, Killian nods again. “ _Younger_ brother,” he corrects out of habit, smiling slightly. “And I will. Wish me luck.”

* * *

As he’s driving through Boston, Killian does his best to not let panic overtake him. It’s a large city, which can make looking for one singular individual about as difficult as trying to find one piece of grain in a pile of rice—impossible, daunting, and time consuming.

But time is something he feels like he doesn’t have a lot of, so he decides to go on instinct instead. And instinct, it seems, has him driving the familiar route to the pier.

The sea has always called to him, the rhythm of the ocean pulses inside him even when he’s not near it. And he never thought he’d meet anything that pulled at the very depths of him the way the waves did.

That is, until he met Emma.

After he met her it was the sound of her voice, her name, the way she sighed sleepily in the early mornings or laughed on warm afternoons that became the new cadence of his heart. The new rhythm to which is life ebbed and flowed to.

She anchors him. Steadies the raging sea inside him.  And he’ll be the first to admit that he’s been lost these past few months without her.

But it had been at this pier that he’d first met her, and it was here that she went when she was feeling troubled. It was one of the things they had in common, and he was hoping that even without memories of this place, some part of her would seek its familiar comfort.

With the car parked Killian steps out into the salty air, the steady chorus of the beating wings and cries of countless seagulls welcoming him back to his second home. He knows this place better than anywhere else in Boston, knows that if you walk a little ways along the dock there’s a quieter section of the pier. He knows that it’s a place Emma loved to frequent, and he’s hoping that subconsciously she’d wandered there again today.

With a somewhat quickened pace, he begins to make his way down the docks and it doesn’t take long for him to spot her. The relief he feels is immediate, it washes through him and carries away the heavy panic that had been weighing him down since he first discovered she’d ran off.  

She’s sitting on the dock, her feet dangling towards the water as her hair lifts and blows with the soft wind. It would be a peaceful sight—she looks breathtaking as she watches the horizon, with only the sounds of boats creaking on the waves accompanying her—if only he didn’t know of the trouble that fills her heart.

Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he walks towards her, careful to keep his pace slow enough so that she’ll have plenty of time to hear him approaching.

He watches her spine straighten slightly once she notices him, and when she turns to look at him he offers a small smile.

“May I join you, love?” he asks her softly, waiting for her response before moving any closer.

She offers him a tiny shrug before turning to look back out at the water. “I guess.”

He crouches down before letting his hands take his weight as he situates himself down on the dock beside her. He mirrors her, letting his feet hang towards the water while sitting back on his hands ever so slightly. He keeps a small space between them, because no matter how much he aches to hold her—how much she lets him in is completely up to her.

Looking out towards the water, Killian watches the small waves ripple in the slight breeze before saying anything.

“I’m sorry about this morning. I should have said something to them early, told them you weren’t ready for visitors. But, Mary Margaret…. she cares about you—there are a lot of people that care about you—and she’s been worried, and may have been a little too enthusiastic in her relief at seeing you alright. I can talk to her though. I know it’s all a little too much right now, with everything else you’re dealing with.”

Emma turns to look at him, and now that he’s closer he can see the redness in her eyes, and his heart constricts at the thought of the tears she’s obviously shed.  

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, reaching up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear before casting her eyes down to look at her hands. “I know she means well. It’s just…”

She sighs and looks towards the water, as if searching for words among the gentle waves.

“It’s just all a little confusing, and lonely, and overwhelming. And I _want_ to remember, I wish I did, but I don’t and it’s…it’s hard.” She looks at him again, a fresh tear trailing down her cheek. “I guess I just feel lost _._ ”

Before he can stop himself, Killian reaches up and gently wipes the tear from her cheek.

As he draws his hand away he freezes, only just realizing what he’s done. His breath catches in his chest, and he doesn’t breathe again as he waits for her response. Because even though he’s trying his hardest to take everything at her pace, to not overwhelm her, being with her still feels as natural as it’s ever been and it’s hard to keep old habits from resurfacing.

 But she doesn’t tense, or panic, or flinch away from his hand. She simply smiles gratefully before reaching up to brush away the rest of her tears as she takes a deep breath.

And his heart stutters a little because of it.

“How did you find me?” she asks, her tone shifting with an obvious desire to change the subject.

Killian hesitates, not sure if he should bring up a memory she clearly doesn’t have, but she’s looking at him with real curiosity and it’s so much better than the sadness, so he clears his throat as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“This is sort of your spot. You used to come here all the time, especially when you were troubled.”

“Really?” she asks, her eyes lighting up for the first time since the accident.

“Aye, love. You did.”

And with a sudden burst of confidence brought on by her positive reaction, he continues. “This is where we first met, actually.”

She arches an eyebrow at that, and a real, genuine smile starts to lift her lips. “Will you tell me? How we met? I don’t know…maybe little things like this will help me remember.”

She looks up at him, and Killian loses his train of thought for a moment, because even with tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes, she’s beautiful. Everything about her captivates him. From the way her lashes brush her cheeks when she blinks, to the soft tendrils of hair that twist and turn with the wind. And sitting here with her on the docks, takes him back to so many similar moments, and he can’t help but return her smile when he thinks about the first time he saw her here.

“I work here, actually. I take care of the boats and run some of the historical tours, so I’m here a lot. And one day you sort of just showed up much like you are now—sitting by the water and watching the horizon.”

He pauses, remembering the way her golden hair had shined with the light of the sunset, and how, for the half hour she sat there, he hardly got any work done.

But of course, he doesn’t tell her this. He doesn’t tell her how mesmerized he’d been, how distracted her presence made him. How he could think of little else the rest of the night, or how Will had done nothing but tease him relentlessly for days afterwards. 

Returning to the present, Killian clears his throat and shakes his head as he clears the memory and continues. “I didn’t say anything to you that first time though. But you kept coming. At least twice a week you’d sit here and watch the water, sometimes you’d draw. It took me three weeks to pluck up the courage to speak with you.”

“And what took you so long?” she asks with a slight tilt of her head.

Killian can feel his ears go pink, and he reaches up to scratch at his head. “I…uh…don’t know.”

He does know though. She was beautiful and always seemed so enraptured in her own thoughts, and he’d claimed he didn’t want to disturb her. It wasn’t until Will accused him of cowardice that he all but marched up to her and made some excuse about needing to check the area to make sure there was enough room for a ship they needed to dock there later.

She’d seen right through it. And he remembers the way she’d rolled her eyes at his flirtations, and how he knew in that instant that he could fall for this girl. And that if he did, he would fall hard.

But in spite of her resistance to his charms, it opened the door, and soon her visits to the harbor grew more frequent.

“So we became _friends_ after?”

Her eyes narrow slightly as she says it, and the emphasis she puts on the word ‘friends’ practically drips with skepticism. 

Killian opens and closes his mouth as he flounders for words. He can tell she suspects that there is something more to their relationship. And he shouldn’t be surprised because she has always had a knack for reading people, and it’s not like he’s been the best at hiding the longing he’s sure is in his eyes.

But it’s all too complicated right now and this is getting way too close to telling her what she really means to him, so he clears his throat and looks away.

“Aye, love, we did.”

_And then became so much more._

He’ll tell her—he will. He just needs to figure out the best way to do so first. He needs to make sure she’s a little more on her feet, because what if she leaves the second she learns the truth?

“Hmm,” she hums, pressing her lips into a thin line and turning her attention back to the sea.

He knows she’s aware he’s omitting things, but thankfully she doesn’t press.

Instead, they settle into an easy silence, both staring off into the horizon.

Killian takes a deep, cleansing breath of sea air, and feels a little more at peace than he has the last few days. There’s something about watching the light dance and glisten across the water’s surface. The way the ocean quietly drifts with the wind calms him almost as much as actually being out on his boat does.  

“I know I don’t have any memories of all those times I came to this spot,” Emma eventually says, her voice just above a whisper. “But I think a part of me knows this place. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel connected to it somehow. Why else would I have come here of all places? It probably doesn’t even make sense but—”

“It makes sense,” Killian tells her. And when Emma looks at him, her green eyes wide with a vulnerability that leaves him breathless, he finds himself whispering in return. “I guess you could say your heart knows. Your soul remembers.”

Emma licks her lips as she quickly looks down, fiddling with her fingers for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet his again.  

“I think I’m starting to realize that there are other things I know, even if I don’t remember them.”

Her eyes flick back and forth between his, and he feels as though she’s searching the very depths of him. He can feel his heart start to race, it thunders in his ribcage and he swallows thickly before responding.

“Oh? What sort of things?”

“You,” she says simply.

And if Killian’s heart was racing before, it’s practically jumping from his chest now.

“I know I don’t remember you,” Emma continues, her forehead crinkling slightly as though she’s confused by all of this. “But I’ve started to realize that you are…familiar to me. Like my heart knows you, even if my brain doesn’t.”

Killian opens his mouth to respond, but finds he has no words to convey the warmth that is suddenly spreading inside him. He fears that if he says something now he’ll just end up declaring how in love with her he is.

So instead he reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, cherishing the tentative smile she gives him.

“Is that crazy?” she asks with an unsure tilt of her head. 

“It’s not crazy.”

She smiles gently before inhaling a shuddering breath and blowing it out slowly. And Killian can practically see her mind trying to process all of this. 

“You must be exhausted, Swan. This little journey probably wasn’t the best for your recovery. We should get home.”

He scoots closer, closing the gap between them with the intention of helping her stand, but she puts her hand on his knee to keep him from rising.

“I am tired,” she admits as she unexpectedly leans against him. Killian stiffens as she tucks her head into the space beneath his.

“Can we stay here?” she sighs, her words so soft that Killian almost doesn’t hear them. “Just a little longer?”

He knows that this sudden openness is due to the vulnerability she must be feeling after what she just shared with him. But he also knows that there is still a lot of confusion and uneasiness inside her. There’s still so much healing she needs to go through, and who knows if she’ll be this open with him come tomorrow

But he’s missed her, and as the familiar scent of her hair envelops him, he relaxes and releases a tiny breath of air before closing his eyes.

He’s missed the feel of her pressed against him more than he could ever express. And the warmth he feels from where their bodies meet sends little fiery tendrils of healing heat up to stitch together a little of his aching heart.

“Aye, love, we can stay here as long as you wish.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So from this point on any sections completely in italics are Emma's memories. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!

_Emma sighs as she looks out at the water. She’s only been in Boston for a little over a month but this spot has quickly become one of her favorites. She loves how calming it is, how quiet it is compared to the rest of the city. She loves how it’s a place where she can come and think—or not think—depending on what she needs for the day._

_Closing her eyes she smiles as the salty breeze blows against her and lifts a bit of her hair. She inhales deeply, letting the ocean air waft through her and cleanse away the stresses of her day._

_She hasn’t been in Boston long, but she’s already starting to fall in love with the quieter parts of the city. And though she’s never been one to stay in one place for too long, the peacefulness of the harbor might convince her to change her ways and stay a little longer than is typical for her._

_She’s always been restless. It’s part of why she left New York. She’d started to feel that insistent sensation that always seems to creep up on her after a while. The need for change is always waiting to surface and disrupt things before she can really settle anywhere.  The longest she’s stayed in one place is two years, and the memories that accompany that place are not ones she likes to relive._

_Deep down she knows why she’s always running to new places, though she does her best to never think about it—because when she does, a familiar and painful ache starts to form in the center of her chest. And if she were to let it, that ache would spread until she choked on it; it would spill out of her in tears, that once start are hard to stop._

_And she doesn’t feel like crying today._

_But the truth is, it’s never really been a need for change that has her bouncing from town to town and city to city. She knows what she’s really doing is searching. Searching for that one place that will finally feel like home, a place that she’ll miss when she leaves, and that won’t feel quite so alone while she’s there._

_She’s looking for a place that will fill the emptiness that seems to be a permanent resident inside her, even if most days she denies how lonely she feels even to herself._

_Sure she’s lived in plenty of places, the random apartment or basement, even the backseat of her bug on occasion, but she’s never really had a home—at least, not in the way the deepest parts of her heart long for._

_But she’s treading into dangerous emotional territory, and so with an indignant huff she shakes her head and does what she does best, she pushes those feelings down and locks them away for another day. Focusing instead on a seagull that’s skimming along the water, watches the little splashes erupt where its feet dip under the surface instead of dwelling on the hollow feeling inside her chest._

_"Excuse me, lass,” a deep, accented voice says behind her._

_She starts at the unexpected noise and spots a shadow on the wooden panels of the dock next to her.  Tracing her eyes along the dark silhouette, her gaze meets a pair of well-worn shoes and a dark pair of jeans. Tipping her head up she takes in the entirety of the shadow’s owner, and though the sun makes it difficult to see, she can tell his hair is dark, and that the rest of his face is framed with handsome scruff to match._

_She doesn’t say anything, however, simply lifts a hand to shade her eyes as she squints up at him._

_“We’re bringing in a ship to dock here in a little while and I need to check the area—make sure it’s prepped, and there’s enough room to accommodate it.”_

_The lie on his tongue is easy enough to catch, she recognizes  it by about the fifth word—she prides herself in being able to hear lies, calls it her super power—but she’s impressed by how smooth it sounds, like he’s rehearsed it in his head a few times before speaking to her._

_Still she doesn’t say anything, simply raises her brows, and as the silence stretches between them he drops eye contact and reaches up to scratch behind his ear, a nervous smile lifting his lips._

_She makes a pointed glance at the near empty harbor around her. They both know there’s plenty of room to dock a ship anywhere along the harbor. But she finds herself both amused and flattered at his attempts to interact with her. There’s something about him, and she can’t exactly pinpoint it, but it keeps her from brushing him off like she normally does to people interrupting time she’d meant to spend alone._

_Their eyes meet, and like a flash his slight nervousness disappears, replaced by a confident little swagger as he shifts on his feet and hooks his thumb around his belt. He bites at his lip as he waits for her to say something, and she wonders for a second if she imagined his shy little smile that was there only moments before._

_Biting down a smile of her own, she tilts her head as she continues to squint up at him. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding enough space to dock your ship here.”_

_His eyebrows raise in amused surprise. It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting her to question his request, but if anything he seems pleased by her response._

_“Aye that may be true, love, but I need to check these cleats here and make sure they’re stable.” He gestures to a small piece of metal attached to the dock beside her and she feels herself smile just a little in spite of herself. He really is dedicated to this._

_He sits down beside her and reaches for the cleat next to him, he tries to give it a small shake but it remains firmly fixed._

_“Do you always check the cleats before docking?”_

_He turns to look at her then, and she feels long dormant butterflies come to life inside her. Without the sun obstructing her view, she can clearly see that the hair and scruff she first found handsome frame a pair of bright blue eyes. They remind her of the ocean she’s so fond of staring off into, and if she’s not careful she could very well end up getting just as lost in them._

_Realizing she’s staring, she licks her lips and blinks a few times, purposefully ignoring the knowing smile on his lips._

_“I always check the cleats when a beautiful woman such as yourself is sitting near one,” he says with a flirtatious tilt of his head._

_Emma rolls her eyes, ignoring the way her heart jumps slightly in her chest, and looks back out at the water._

_“Killian Jones,” he says offering his hand._

_She stares at it a moment before taking it with her own and shaking it._

_“Emma Swan,” she says simply. Wondering what’s gotten into her. She’s not one to give her full name to strangers, but she finds his presence comfortable—and she’s not quite sure what to do with that information just yet._

_“Swan,” he practically breathes her name, soft and almost reverent, and the flutter of butterflies in her stomach stir to life again._

_He smiles at her and it makes his eyes shine like trapped stars, and just like staring up at the night sky, she finds it hard to look away._

* * *

Emma starts, sucking in a sharp breath, as if she’s just surfaced after being immersed in water. Her breaths come in short spurts, and her heart riots against her rib cage as she adjusts to being conscious. Once her breathing begins to slow and even out she scoots herself up into more of a sitting position, wincing when the action sends a stinging sensation zipping through her ribs.

As soon as she’s situated with her back against the arm of the chair and her legs stretched out in front of her, still wrapped in the soft blanket Killian had given her earlier that morning, she takes a deep breath and looks around the room.

The walls glow with the soft oranges of sunset, which means a couple of hours must have passed, and the room is relatively quiet, the only sound coming from the television playing softly in the background.

She’s home alone. Killian wanted to stay home with her, but it was Monday and he needed to return to work. She’d insisted she was fine, that all she was going to do was sit on the couch and rest. It had only been the reassurance of the boring but healing day ahead of her that had finally convinced him she was fine on her own.

But at some point during the late afternoon she’d dozed off, and now that she’s awake, she can’t seem to shake just how vivid her dream was. The air around her had felt so real.   _Killian_ had felt real. She can still see the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes as he smiled at her.

There’s no way it was just a dream. In fact, the more she tries to recall, the clearer the images become. 

It’s a memory, she just knows it.

A tiny breath of wonder escapes her as the reality of what’s happening sinks in. Her heart feels lighter than it has all week, rising in time with the small smile lifting her lips.  

_She remembers something._

It’s like a wall has suddenly been lifted from her mind, and a moment in her life that was blocked from view only yesterday is clearly visible today. What she once felt like she had no hope of grasping is suddenly there in her minds eyes as if it never left, and the longer she thinks about it the more details she finds herself able to recall.  

Sure it’s only one memory, but it’s _something._

Laughter bubbles out of her, and she covers her smile with both hands as she shakes her head in disbelief.

She remembers something, and suddenly her situation doesn’t feel quite as hopeless.

One memory returning means that the others will surely follow, and just thinking about it has her lips spread so wide that she wouldn’t be able to wipe the smile off her face if she tried.  

She can’t wait to tell Killian, and she almost calls him right then and there, but deciding that she wants to tell him in person she settles for waiting out the rest of the day until he returns home. The anticipation leaping around in her chest until she feels like it’s going to burst out of her rib cage.

Waiting is almost impossible, and she has to talk herself out of calling him at least three times. Only the promise of seeing his eyes light up once she tells him keeps her from reaching for her phone.

She doesn’t know if she’s ever felt this antsy in her life, especially since her injuries keep her from doing anything physical to pass the time and ease the excitement fluttering around inside her. Bouncing her foot as she tries to pay attention to the television in front of her only does so much.  

It’s about an hour later when Emma hears the lock on the front door shift and the handle turn. Turning from her spot on the couch, she watches the door open as Killian pushes his way inside. He barely has one foot on the hardwood when she calls out to him.

“Killian!”

At this point her happiness is ready to explode out of her, and she practically jumps to her feet in her excitement, throwing the blanket from her lap and forgetting for a moment that she’s still healing.

Her body, however, doesn’t forget and pain ripples through her. She gasps, gritting her teeth as she squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on breathing through the sudden burst of pain.

“Swan? Killian calls, his voice tight with concern. “What is it? Are you alright?”

Emma feels his hands cup her upper arms, gentle as he steers her back to the couch. Agony echoes through her as she breathes through her teeth. She keeps as still as she can, scared of triggering more pain, and waits for her body to stop throbbing.

By the time she peels her eyes open, Killian’s face is only inches from hers, his brows pressed down in heavy concern. He’s kneeling in front of her, his hands running a soothing path up and down her arms.

Emma takes a few more settling breaths while his eyes drill into hers. Her lips lift in a shaky smile, but not even that is enough to clear the storm stirring in his eyes.

“Y-you pretended to ch-check the cleats,” she gasps out through the last lingering bouts of pain.

If possible, Killian’s brows furrow further, his features shifting slightly as confusion mixes with his concern.

“I’m sorry, love,” he says shaking his head. “But what?”

“You pretended to check the cleats,” she repeats, clearer this time as the sensation of being tortured finally starts to subside.

It takes a few more seconds of Killian staring at her blankly before he seems to register what she’s saying.

She watches understanding dawn on his face. It rises slowly at first, his mouth falling open and his eyes widening. But once he seems to grasp what she means, Emma feels her smile return in full force, laughing happily when his lips stretch into a grin that matches her own.

“You remember?”

She nods her head, happier than she’s been in a while. “I mean, it’s only one memory and I only remember bits and pieces of it. Just meeting you and being at the harbor—but I _remember.”_

He places a hand on her knee and squeezes it gently. “That’s wonderful, love.”

His gaze softens, his eyes glowing with a warmth that makes her breath catch. It’s reminiscent of the way he looked at her in her memory, only deeper somehow—and she finds herself swallowing as she stares back at him, completely caught in his gaze.

She has no idea what he is to her, what she is to him. Part of her feels like they must have been something more than just friends, but another part of her wonders why he hasn’t said anything if that’s the case.

Because _if_ they were…dating or something… wouldn’t it be typical for him to tell her so? She’s no expert on amnesia cases, but she feels like being someone’s significant other isn’t something that’s usually kept hidden.

Perhaps she’s reading too much into the way he looks at her and they really are nothing more than good friends.

It wouldn’t surprise her. She knows she’s never been the easiest person to love, and it’s not like _she’s_ ever been one to fall head first into loving someone. In fact she’s always been quite the opposite. More of a walls up, heart guarded type of person.

Too broken to love or be loved.

Had he told her in the beginning that they were in a relationship she’s not sure she would’ve believed him. She’s _still_ not sure if she would believe him even now. But she does know that his eyes have a way of burning through her, and that she often finds her thoughts drifting towards him.

She’d told him yesterday that he was familiar to her, and it’s true. She can’t explain it fully, but some visceral part of her just _knows_ him.

But when she pairs it with the fact that she actually _can’t_ remember him it’s confusing as hell—like she’s stuck in some warped, never-ending déjà vu.  

She can’t wait for the uncertainty to end, to be able to answer these things herself and have her life feel whole again. But she needs the rest of her memories back for that to happen, and maybe this first memory is a clue on how to do that.

“Do you think,” she says, licking her lips as she gathers her thoughts, “that it had to do with yesterday? That I remember because of what you told me?”

“It’s definitely possible,” he answers. The space between his eyes scrunching as he considers her question.  “The doctor said that surrounding yourself with familiar things would help your memories return. I’m sure being at the harbor had a lot to do with it as well.”

With a sigh she lifts her eyes to his. “Yes, but this memory is so specific. It _has_ to be because of what you told me.”

 “That’s true,” Killian muses as he pulls himself off his knees and moves to sit beside her. She doesn’t miss the careful way he lowers his weight onto the cushions, and she knows he’s doing it to avoid jostling her. He’s always thinking about her—and it always catches her off guard. She’s not used to having someone care about her that way.

“And I was thinking…” She pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I was thinking that maybe if we go to places—places I’ve been or places _we’ve_ been—and you tell me stories about them, share with me bits of my past, that maybe it would help my memories return.”  

Emma looks down at her lap and fiddles with her blanket, suddenly nervous. There’s so much hope swelling in her chest, and she fears he’ll find her idea stupid and crush it.

But as she picks at some invisible string Killian’s hands enter her vision and grab her own. Her hands seem so much smaller when surrounded by his and she takes a moment to stare at them before looking up.

His smile is soft and his eyes warm, and she feels her chest tighten as his thumb traces a path back and forth across the back of her hand.

“Swan, I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

“You do?”

He nods, smirking slightly at her question. “Of course I do. I want more than anything to help you get your memories back. But I think maybe we should hold off on the idea for a week or two.”

Emma opens her mouth to protest but Killian continues before she can say anything.

“You need to heal. That’s your first priority. And then once you’re better, I’ll go with you to as many places as you like, for as long as it takes until your memories return.”  

She almost argues against waiting, she wants to start immediately, the excitement of her first memory still coursing through her. But he's right, and wandering about the city will be easier to do once she’s healed.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t other things they can do to trigger more memories though, and as another idea forms in her head she finds herself scooting a little closer to Killian , eager to get started.

“Okay,” she nods. “You’re right. But maybe in the meantime we could look at pictures? I’m sure that will also help with my memories.”

Emma feels the moment Killian tenses, the little muscles in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth.

She flinches back slightly, his reaction taking her by surprise. To be honest she was expecting the same enthusiasm for this idea that he showed for the last, but he hesitates, withdrawing his hands from hers and scratching behind his ear.

 “I uh… don’t know, love. I would need to find some first.”

His uneasiness is obvious, and Emma feels her heart sink. What is so hard about showing her some pictures?

“Don’t you have some on your phone?” she asks, trying not to narrow her eyes. But she’s confused and feeling a little dejected by the fact that he’s clearly evading the situation. Making it easy for the familiar habits of suspicion and distrust to slink inside her   

He licks his lips before swallowing thickly.  Panic clear in his eyes while they flit around the room, looking anywhere but her.

“I… I’m sure I do. I just… I need to sort through them. There’s a lot of…pictures on my phone.” He runs a tense hand through his hair, and offers a smile that doesn’t even attempt to reach his eyes. “How about tomorrow? We can sit down and look through them together. It’ll give me a day to organize everything.”

“Alright,” Emma answers slowly, at a loss to do anything but stare at him. He’s hiding something that much is clear, and it has to do with her because why else would he panic when she suggested looking at pictures that might trigger her memories.

“Perfect,” he sighs, rubbing his hands down his thighs before standing. “Should we order take-out tonight? I’m starving.”

She frowns, completely thrown off by his anxiety. “Take-out is great.”

“I’ll order it then,” he says nodding as he makes his way out of the living room.

She watches him leave, her brow furrowed.

What on earth could be so hard about showing her a few pictures?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading (and putting up with the angst ;) Your reviews and kind words about this little story mean the world to me.

Killian usually loves being out on the boats this time of year—the air is cool, and October is beginning to paint the leaves around the harbor brilliant shades of red, yellow, and orange. But no matter how breathtaking the scenery around him might be, he doesn’t really see any of it.

Instead his focus remains firmly fixed on the brush in his hand as he scrubs the deck of the Jolly Roger with a bit more intensity than the task actually warrants. With his shirt pushed up to his elbows and his hands wet with suds, Killian pushes and pulls the scrubbing brush with enough vigor to wear a hole through the wood.

But he has to get his frustrations out somewhere, and so the poor deck gets the brunt of it.

His thoughts have been a non-stop torrent all morning long. Racing an incessant path back and forth along his mind as he tries to figure out what to do about Emma and her desire to look at the pictures he has of her.

When she’d innocently suggested it last night—so hopeful and happy at the prospect of triggering more memories—Killian had panicked.

He’d made up some excuse about needing to find and organize them, but his frantic words had been nothing more than a lie made by a desperate man.

Of course he has pictures of her, that’s not the problem. The problem is that he has _too_ _many_ pictures of her.

Too many pictures of them together, of him kissing her cheek or holding her close. He has too many pictures of her laughing in the sunlight, and too many pictures of her in the early mornings, her hair a mess and her eyes still filled with sleep.

He has too many pictures that show just how much in love with her he was.

_How much in love with her he still is._

And he panicked.

He’s been trying to tell himself all morning that it’s because Emma’s not ready to know the extent of their relationship just yet—but he knows that, though this may be true, deep down a big part of it is also because _he’s_ not ready for her to know yet.

He’s selfish and a coward, because he’s scared she’ll run off again when she does find out and he’s not ready to face that pain again. He’s not ready to lose her again. And he hates himself just a little because he feels like he’s mixing up what’s best for Emma and what’s best for him, when he went into this whole thing vowing to always do what’s right by her.

So with a grunt he pushes all his self-loathing and frustration out into the soaps and suds he’s spreading across the ships surface.

“Are you trying to clean the deck or punch a hole through it? Because I really can’t tell.”

Looking up, Killian spots Will leaning casually against the side of the ship with his arms crossed, a smug and amused expression spread across his features.

Sitting back on his heels, Killian reaches up and wipes a bit of sweat from his brow before cranking his neck to the side as he tries to stretch away the stiffness that comes from being hunched over all morning.  He’s really not in the mood to deal with Will at the moment and he knows the look he shoots his way is anything but patient.

“Shove off, Scarlet,” Killian huffs, tossing the brush into the bucket of water next to him, not caring when the water sloshes and spills out of it, creating fresh puddles on the otherwise spotless deck.  

Pulling himself to his feet, Killian wipes his hands along his jeans and dries them off. The air is just a little chilly, but the breeze feels good as it blows past him, cooling his heated skin.

Reaching down, he picks up the bucket and begins making his way to the gangplank, all while making a pointed effort to ignore the man beside him. But Will simply pushes himself off the railing and follows after, completely unfazed.

“I watched you clean the same spot for a solid five minutes. What’s got you all miffed?”

Killian doesn’t say anything as he walks towards the small building they use as both a supply shed and office of sorts. When he reaches the door he wrenches it open, clenching his jaw as he stomps inside, hoping that Scarlett will just take the hint and leave him alone. 

But of course he doesn’t, and after setting the bucket in the corner and plopping down at his desk, Killian closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m really not in the mood, Will.” 

“It’s Emma again, innit?”

Opening his eyes, Killian finds Will sitting at his own desk, his eyebrow raised expectantly. He knows that the man isn’t going to leave him alone until he says something, and who knows, maybe it will feel good to release some of his pent up feelings into the air—so with a sigh Killian rubs a hand along his scruff and slumps a little further into his chair.

“Aye, it’s Emma. She remembered something last night, which is wonderful. I haven’t seen her that happy since the accident.”

Killian pauses, thinking of the way her eyes had shinned as she’d relayed her newest memory. How it had made his own heart lift as he’d shared in that happiness with her. But then he thinks about how not even seconds later he’d doused the light in her eyes when he’d made a painfully obvious evasion of her wish to look at pictures. Her disappointment and confusion still wrench at his gut and lay heavy on his heart, and if possible, he feels even worse than he did a minute ago as he scrubbed the deck.  

“And the bad part is?” Will prompts, pulling Killian from his thoughts. He looks up at his business partner to see him waiting  with his eyebrows raised as he tries to figure out what Emma’s memories have to do with Killian bruising the deck of his beloved ship.

With a groan, Killian tips back in his chair and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, hoping the action will help ease the beginnings of the headache that is starting form in the center of his forehead.

But when it doesn’t, Killian drags his hands down the rest of his face and blows out a puff of air. “She asked if we could look at pictures,” he finally continues. “She’s hoping it will help trigger more memories while she’s essentially couch-ridden and can’t go anywhere.”

“Ah, I see. And you don’t want her to see all the pictures you have of the two of you smooching and making eyes at each other.”

“Something like that,” Killian mumbles to himself as he turns around and opens his laptop. It’s about a thousand times more complicated than that but he doesn’t feel like delving into the reasons why with Will Scarlett.

“I don’t see why this has got you all worked up, mate. I feel like there’s a real simple solution.” 

A squeaking noise begins to come from behind him and Killian doesn’t need to turn around to know Will is spinning in his chair. He does it all the time, but today the noise only grates on Killian’s nerves and he has to resist the temptation to smash his head into his keyboard.

“What, pray tell, is this magical solution?” Killian asks, the exasperation clear in his voice.

“It’s easy.” Killian hears Will get out of his chair and walk over to him. Clasping his hand on Killian’s shoulder he continues, “Just upload everything to your computer and pick the ones you’re ready for her to see and get them printed. She doesn’t have to see the rest.”  

Silence settles between them as Killian considers this. He’d thought of this already, made plans to do it a dozen times, but for some reason it just doesn’t feel that simple.

It can’t be that easy because he doesn’t deserve it to be, not with the way he’s hiding things from her.  Yet hearing the idea come from a place other than his own brain has a way of clearing his thoughts. 

_Maybe it is that simple._

Maybe he’s beating himself up too much about this. Maybe it really is as simple as printing out a few pictures.

Sensing the shift in Killian’s mood, Will begins taking a few steps toward the door. “I have some work I still need to get done. I’ll leave you alone to figure things out.”

Nodding in acknowledgment Killian opens a drawer and pulls out a cord that will connect his phone to his laptop, hardly hearing the door shut as Will leaves the room.

It takes a while for everything to upload, but once it does he immediately begins making a separate file of pictures he feels like he can show Emma.

For the most part he steers clear of pictures of just the two of them—choosing instead pictures of them in larger groups. Friend dinners at Mary Margaret’s and David’s, one of Liam with them at Granny’s diner, and a few of the sailing trip they’d all gone on last summer.

He feels safe picking a few of Emma by herself, ones that aren’t personal or intimate in any way. Just ones of her around the city—pictures a friend might take.

It takes him far longer than it should to go through all the pictures, mostly because he keeps stopping to laugh or smile at some of his favorite ones.

The only problem is he counts every picture with Emma in it as a favorite one, and so he ends up spending well over an hour going through all of them.

There’s one in particular that takes considerable effort for him to stop looking at in order to click on to the next one. It’s one of them out on his boat. Emma had taken his phone and snapped a picture just as Killian had turned to whisper something in her ear. As a result, the picture has only Emma facing the camera, her smile bright and her green eyes squinting against the sunlight while Killian has his nose buried in her hair as he smiles against her skin.

They look so happy, and so carefree, and Killian finds a few tears slipping free as he stares at it. There was a time when he was so sure that Emma loved him back, and he misses those days more than he can say. Misses the days when there wasn’t a lingering ache in his chest just waiting to remind him how hollow he actually feels.

With a sigh he wipes at his eyes and shakes his head before moving on to the next photo. The last thing he needs is to get emotional, not if he wants to have a clear head when he brings Emma the pictures.

It doesn’t take much longer to scroll through the rest, especially since he’s careful not to dwell on anymore particularly emotional ones. Soon enough he feels like he has a sufficient amount to show Emma, and so he copies them onto a USB and heads off to get them printed.

* * *

Standing outside his apartment door, Killian fidgets with the large manila envelope that rests heavy in his hands. He’s been standing there for a solid minute, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he alternates between staring at the door handle and at his feet.

It’s silly, to be nervous to walk into his own home, but he finds the nerves flurrying around inside him at a rapid speed.

He hasn’t seen Emma since last night, seeing as he’d purposefully left that morning before she woke up, hoping to avoid a repeat of the night before. They’d hardly said two words to each other as they ate dinner; an awkward tension resting between them after he’d stumbled and stammered more than a few times, still stressed about the pictures she wanted see on his phone.

It probably wasn’t the best move, leaving without seeing her. He has no idea what she’s feeling and therefore has no idea how she’s going to react to him now. Not to mention it’s a little earlier in the day then he usually gets home and so he knows she won’t be expecting him.  He can only hope that she’s forgiven him for his odd behavior last night, and that she’ll be satisfied with the pictures he’s printed for her.

With a deep breath, Killian licks at his lips and steels himself. Placing a hand on the doorknob, he turns it and pushes his way inside before he has another chance to overthink things.

He can hear the quiet murmur of the T.V. as he walks through the doorway, and once he spots her he smiles slightly to himself despite his nervousness.

He can only see the back of her head, but she looks cozy with her hair piled on top of her head and a mug of what he can probably guess is hot chocolate warming her hands. She sits in the same spot she was in yesterday, with her legs lying out in front of her and blanket wrapped around them.

That spot has quickly turned into her self-designated resting spot of sorts, and he’s happy to see her there, happy to see her healing.

It’s as he’s placing his keys on the table that Emma finally hears him. Surprised, she turns her head quickly, relaxing a little once she realizes it’s him.

She doesn’t say anything right away, just looks him up and down for a second—and there’s a hesitancy in her eyes that makes Killian’s chest tighten. She’s only hesitant because of the way he acted, and to have her look so cautious after the pure joy she’d greeted him with only yesterday is not an easy thing to swallow.

He’s determined to fix it though, to bring back yesterday’s happiness. He’d do anything to be the reason for her smile again.

“Hey, Swan,” he says softly, trying to lace his tone with a confidence he’s not too sure he has right now.

She eyes him for a moment longer before responding. “You’re home early.”

“Aye, well I had some things to get done away from the harbor this evening.” Killian pauses as he looks down at the envelope in his hand. “I uh…I brought something for you.”

Emma’s eyebrow perks up as she tilts her head. “Oh?”

Lifting the envelope to show her, Killian lets out a small, nervous laugh. “I got some pictures printed. We can look at them now if you’d like.”

A beat of silence passes between them as Emma continues to look at him, and Killian feels the same panic from yesterday start to return. What if she says no? Has he messed up so badly that she now wants nothing to do with him?

Eventually, a small smile begins to lift her lips, softening her features, and Killian immediately releases an audible breath of relief.

“I’d like that,” Emma says, nodding her head. She places her mug on the coffee table in front of her and begins to carefully shift to a more upright position, swinging her legs off the couch to make room for him.

Killian doesn’t miss the way she winces as she does it, but he refrains from asking if she needs help, not wanting to disrupt this tentative peace between them. Instead, he quickly makes his way over to sit next to her without saying anything.

Their eyes meet for a second, and Killian offers her a small smile before looking down and opening the envelope. Pulling the pictures out, he hands the stack to Emma who takes them and immediately pulls them closer to her.  

She looks at the first picture in silence and Killian watches and waits for her to say something.  

The first one is the one of them at Granny’s with Liam, they’re laughing as they try to squeeze in for a selfie. A little bit of the diner is visible behind them, and it’s a happy and bright picture.

Emma looks at it a little longer, her eyes drinking in every detail as if she’s willing it to trigger a memory, before she finally looks up at Killian.

“Who’s that?” she asks, pointing to Liam.

“That would be my brother Liam. He’s stubborn and a bit full of himself but you like him well enough.”

Emma looks back at the picture and smiles. “Okay I can see it a little now—he looks like you.”

Killian chuckles softly. “Aye, a little. I’m much more dashing though.”

Emma’s smile grows as she laughs, and Killian chuckles softly with her. It’s strange how something as simple as the sound of her laughter can lift his heart.

“Where are we?”

“This would be Granny’s diner, home of your favorite grilled cheese sandwich and onion rings. The same one I brought you while you were in the hospital.”

She nods, accepting his answer before she moves on to the next picture. This one is of just her and she looks at it for a minute but doesn’t ask any questions before she silently moves on to the next one.

They go through the pictures like this for almost an hour. Emma’s mostly quiet as she soaks in everything. Some photos she spends a longer time on than others and those are usually the ones she has questions about. Killian is content to just watch her, answering each of her questions patiently and only giving her the details she seeks.

She smiles and laughs at a few, but it’s not until she reaches a large group photo that she seems to grow solemn. It’s a picture taken at Mary Margaret’s and David’s with nearly all of their friends. Emma’s smiling in the very center, holding little Leo. Anyone looking at it can see just how happy she is, it practically radiates out of the photo.

It’s one of Killian’s favorites, simply because of how happy she looks in it. So he’s a little surprised when he sees Emma’s eyes begin to water. She swallows thickly, brushing a tentative finger over the picture.

“Emma?” Killian calls her name quietly, but still she starts as if he’d shouted. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Emma says quickly, brushing him off just as effectively as she brushes away the tear that escapes her eyes.

Had this been months ago, when Emma still had her memories and they were still together, Killian would’ve pushed. He knows when something’s troubling her and he knows she sometimes needs a bit of encouragement to share what weighs down her heart. But things are so fragile now, and the last thing he wants to do is to pressure her and end up pushing her away, shattering what little trust he’s built.

So he swallows down what he wants to say and lets her keep her silence.

But to his surprise, she doesn’t. And not a second later she’s opening up to him.

“It’s just—” she sighs, keeping her eyes fixed on the picture in her hands. “It’s just I’ve never had…friends like this before…I’m not really a _friends_ type of person, and so much of my life I’ve spent alone. So it’s hard to imagine a life where I have anything different.”

Killian is well aware of the lack of love in her past, he knows of the years she spent abandoned and alone out on the streets. And it hurts him to know that without her memories this is where she still feels like she is emotionally. That she doesn’t know just how loved she is.

Reaching for her, Killian gently wraps his hand around hers and smiles softly when she finally looks up at him. He hesitates before saying anything, worried that it’s going to be too much and that he’s going to push her too far. But he can’t stand the thought of her thinking she’s still that lonely girl who thinks she doesn’t matter to anyone.

“Emma,” he breathes her name, and he wonders if she can hear just how much he loves her when he says it. “There are so many people that care about you. You have friends that would do anything for you. You’re not alone anymore. In fact you are very, very loved.”

Killian can hear the breath catch in her chest, and her eyes widen as they lock with his. It’s as if the air is suddenly too thin and he finds it difficult to inhale any air of his own as he waits for her to respond.

The last time she got even an inkling of how many people were now in her life, she got overwhelmed and ran off. He can only hope he’s not spurring on a similar incident.  

But she doesn’t say anything. She just continues to stare at him with wide eyes that begin to water ever so slightly.

Seconds pass, and something seems to shift between them, and suddenly the way she continues to hold his gaze sends fire blazing through his veins.

She blinks at him, her lashes fluttering as her lips part slightly. And as her eyes flick to his lips, where she stares for just a moment before she lifts her gaze to meet his again, Killian feels as though he’s going to be consumed by this warmth that’s spreading through him.   

He has to swallow thickly, his heart suddenly fighting against his rib cage.

Everything inside him wants to pull her to him, wants to make the memory of her lips against his a reality again. And right now, fighting down that desire is harder than he ever could have imagined.

Finally, Emma breaks eye contact, looking down at the pictures in her lap and Killian releases a heavy breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“I guess Boston was a good move for me then,” she says, her voice soft and quiet.

Killian can only nod, still caught up in the way her eyes had held his.

With a sigh Emma thumps the edges of the photos against her lap, realigning them, before she tries to hand them back to him.

Killian holds up his hands. “No, love, you keep them. This way you can look at them whenever you wish and maybe they’ll start triggering some memories.”

She nods as she leans forward and places them on the coffee table next to her hot chocolate. “Thank you, Killian.” She pauses, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear as she looks at him, tentative and unsure. “I was about to start a movie, do you want to watch it with me?”

She bites down on her lip as she waits for him to answer, the green of her eyes still sparkling with her emotions.

Killian’s insides are a mess, and he is quite certain that she is going to be the death of him. She has no idea just how much of an affect she has on him, of the feelings she stirs inside him.

Taking a deep breath to get better control of himself and his voice, Killian lifts his lips in a small smile. “I’d love to.”

“Good.”

And her answering smile is all the reward he’ll ever need.


	8. Chapter 8

Emma hums to herself as she stands at the kitchen counter stirring a fresh mug of hot chocolate. The tiled floor is cold beneath her bare feet, and she considers hunting for a pair of socks later as she makes her way over to the fridge and grabs the whipped cream—swirling it on top of her drink and then rummaging through the cupboard for the cinnamon. She sprinkles a generous amount on top, finishing her drink off with a satisfied smile.

As she kicks the fridge door closed and makes her way back to the living room, Emma dips a finger into the cream, scooping up a tiny taste and popping it into her mouth

It’s been a little over a week since Killian brought home those pictures, and three weeks since the accident. She’s not nearly as sore, and moving around the apartment is no longer such an arduous and painful task.

Sure, she may not be completely back to herself and she still gets tired way sooner than she likes, but she’s feeling exceptionally better and—at least in her book—that qualifies as being healed.

Well, _physically_ she considers herself healed. Mentally is still a whole different story.  

She hasn’t had any more memories return since that first one, no matter how many times she looks at the photos. And most days she still feels as if she’s lost out in some endless ocean, just floating, waiting for some sign of the shore to appear and remind her where she is and what she’s doing.

But the sea around her remains vast and empty, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to unlock any of the memories that are stubbornly hiding away somewhere in her brain. It’s frustrating, and upsetting, and discouraging in every way imaginable, but she does her best to not let it get to her.

She has to believe she’ll remember everything someday.

It’s too depressing to think otherwise.

Lowering herself onto the couch, Emma takes a sip of her hot chocolate before setting it down on the center table and picking up the mystery novel she’s about half way through.

She’d quickly grown sick of watching television all day, and in an attempt to not go stir crazy, had gone searching through the apartment to find something else to occupy her time. She’d discovered that Killian had quite the collection of books, everything ranging from historical non-fiction and informational texts about the bow and stern of a ship, to the mystery thriller she’s been engrossed in for the last couple of days.

She’s pretty sure she’s already figured out whose killed who and what not, and though she’s itching to know if she’s right, she’s been resisting the urge to flip to the back of the book and spoil it for herself. She’s the worst when it comes to patience and reading, and flipping ahead is not uncommon for her, but there’s not much to do when she’s essentially stuck on a couch all day and she doesn’t want to ruin what little variety the book’s brought to the monotony of her day.

She’s barely settled in, with her cold feet tucked up beneath her for warmth, and her book opened to chapter sixteen, when a loud knock splits through the air.

Frowning, Emma looks up at the front door and stares at it a moment, contemplating whether or not to answer it. This isn’t her apartment after all, and anyone coming to the door isn’t here for her.

The person on the other side knocks again, and deciding she’ll just tell whoever it is to come back when Killian’s home, Emma places her book on the cushion beside her and makes her way over to the door.

“Killian’s not—” Emma begins as soon as she opens the door, but she only gets those few syllables out before the rest of her words seem to slip off her tongue and she’s left gaping at the man in front of her.

She knows this guy.

Not because she actually _knows_ him, or anything, but because she recognizes him from the pictures.

_Liam_.

In person she can see that he’s both taller and broader than Killian, and his hair couldn’t be more opposite. Even with how short he keeps it, she can still see the way it falls in tight curls. Which is a stark contrast to Killian’s smoother locks, his tend to fall into his eyes and flip up behind his ears, especially first thing in the morning before he’s had a chance to tame them.

His eyes though, she can see a bit of Killian in them. They’re blue like his, though Killian’s are arguably a more striking shade, but it’s enough for her to see the sibling resemblance between them.

“Hello,” Liam says after a few more seconds pass. Emma blinks her eyes rapidly and slams her mouth shut, just now realizing she’s staring. “I’m—”

“Liam.” Emma finishes for him, flushing when his eyebrows jump up in surprise. “Not that I remember you or anything. I just have some—I mean Killian gave me some pictures and you’re in a few. I’m Emma by the way.” She sticks out her hand in greeting only for it to dawn on her that he probably already knows that.

He takes her hand anyway and shakes it, half of a smirk slanting his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Emma.”

Emma finds herself smiling in spite of herself. He very easily could have said something to indicate that he already knows her, but instead he’s shaking her hand as if they’ve never met.

She decides right then and there that she likes him.

“Killian’s not home,” she says, looking over her shoulder at the clock in the kitchen, surprised to find it’s later than she realized. “But he should be here soon. Do you want to come in?”

She steps aside and let’s Liam pass her before she gently shuts the door.

He doesn’t say anything, and Emma finds herself folding her arms and shifting a little on her feet as a bit of an awkward silence slips between them. “So… you’re Killian’s brother.”  

Liam nods as he walks a little further into the apartment. “I am.”

His voice is rather stoic, and Emma finds her eyebrow arching at just how serious he sounds. He doesn’t seem to want to offer much in the terms of furthering the conversation and she’s never been one for meaningless small talk, so they both just sort of stand there, sizing the other up.

There’s an unspoken tension in the air and it’s awkward at best. Liam continues to stand there in the no-man’s land between the kitchen and the living room, and Emma’s not sure if she should just leave him be and return to her book, or stay and keep him company until Killian gets home.

After nearly a minute of silence Emma’s pretty sure the air is thick enough to suffocate in. But mercifully the sound of Killian coming in through the front door saves her from having to suffer through another uncomfortable second with his brother.

Spinning around, she can’t help but smile when she sees Killian. He looks tired, but she’s found she loves the way he always comes home smelling like the sea. Like salt and wind. With the tips of his ears pink after spending the day in the cool autumn air. It’s comforting, if only because it’s familiar.

He doesn’t seem to notice anything different at first, stepping out of his shoes and tossing his keys to the table by the door like he always does. But as soon as he looks up and spots his brother, his eyes immediately brighten.

“Liam what are you doing here?”

Liam chuckles lowly and passes Emma to place a strong hand on Killian’s shoulder. “Can’t a man simply visit his brother?”

“Of course he can,” Killian laughs with him. “You just usually have a reason.”

Emma smiles a little to herself as she watches Killian pull Liam in for a tight hug. She’s only heard them say a few sentences to each other but it’s already easy to see just how much they care about one another. Their bond is obvious, and where there’s a fierce protectiveness in Liam’s eyes, there’s an equal one of admiration in Killian’s.

“Well,” Liam breathes, “for one, I came by to see how you two are faring.”

At this Killian seems to notice Emma standing there. His gaze meets hers and his brow immediately furrows. “Emma, love, shouldn’t you be resting?”

She can’t help but roll her eyes. All she’s been doing these days is resting. “I’m fine, I promise. I’m feeling much better, and if I spend much more time _resting_ I might go insane.”

Killian doesn’t seem convinced, his frown only deepening as his lips press together in a thin line. She knows his concern is only because he cares for her, but he really doesn’t need to worry so much about her anymore.

She tries offering him a small smile as reassurance, but he simply frowns a moment longer, the muscles of his jaw twitching, before he sighs and looks at his brother again.

“Have you eaten? I was thinking about ordering Emma and I some pizza.”  

“Actually that’s sort of the second reason why I came.” Liam says, looking down at his hands and fidgeting with his fingers.

It’s amusing, to see Liam nervous. He doesn’t seem like the type to let things get to him, but if the way he’s shuffling form foot to foot is any indicator, whatever he came for has the apple of his cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

Killian doesn’t seem to catch on and he laughs as a ridiculous smile lifts his lips. “You knew I was going to order pizza?”

 “No. I mean, Elsa and I were about to go get dinner, and she’s been mentioning the fact that she still hasn’t meet you at least two times a week now. So I came to see if you wanted to join us?”

Killian sobers, and he seems to struggle with something for a moment as he glances at Emma before answering. “I don’t know, Liam. I can’t wait to meet her, really. But now’s probably not the best time.”

Liam blinks, clearly confused and disappointed by Killian’s answer. “What’s wrong with tonight?”

Killian sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks between them. “It’s just—”

“You should go,” Emma interrupts. She knows the only reason he’s declining is because he feels the need to be here with her. She practically has to push him out the door every morning for work because he’s worried she may need something while he’s gone. But she really is fine, and she’s learned that he has a tendency to be overprotective. Besides, she really shouldn’t be a reason for him to not meet his brother’s girlfriend. “I’m fine here, really. Go, it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know…”

“Emma can come with,” Liam suggests, and Emma finds herself brightening immediately at the idea. She’ll take any excuse to get out of the apartment for a little while. “She says she’s feeling better.”

“I am,” Emma adds eagerly.  “Besides, that couch and I have been together way too long, I think it’s about time we break up.”

 She laughs a little at her own joke, but Liam and Killian exchange a sudden look and something unspoken seems to pass between them. She has no idea what it means, and after a few more seconds of just standing there she clears her throat. Both of their eyes snap back to her and Killian gives his head a small shake.

“Swan, the doctor said it could take one to two months before—”

“Screw what the doctor said. _I feel fine._ And besides, isn’t fresh air supposed to be good for you?”

Killian stares at her for a long second, biting his lip, but he doesn’t respond.  

“Okay, whatever. _I’ll_ go and you can stay here. Save me some pizza, I’ll eat it cold in the morning.” She turns to Liam, “Just give me five minutes to change and I’ll be ready.”

And without giving them a chance to say anything, she turns and heads toward her bedroom. She knows that if she goes, Killian will go.

She’s in the hallway when she hears Liam chuckle behind her. “I forgot how stubborn she can be.”

* * *

Granny’s diner is where they end up for dinner, and Emma only tenses up once when the namesake of the place squeezes her in a tight hug and gushes about how glad she is to see her.

Emma can only nod, giving her a strained smile and a small, “Thanks.”

Granny is kind but there’s a fierceness in her that almost contradicts her unassuming gray hair and the glasses she wears connected to a chain around her neck. She seems genuinely excited to see Emma, and more than once her slightly wrinkled hands squeeze Emma’s with affection.

Emma’s still not sure she’s ever going to get used to all of these people that supposedly care about her, no matter how many times she sees them in a picture. At this point she’s just hoping that they don’t _all_ hug her the first time they see her again, but at this rate it doesn’t look too promising.

She does smile though, when Granny squeezes the Jones boys affectionately and then immediately chides them for not coming to see her more. There’s a fire in the old woman and it’s delightful to watch the boys squirm a little under her reprimands.

They sit in a booth towards the back of the diner, Killian and her sitting on one side while Liam and Elsa sit on the other. Elsa is quiet but sweet, her blonde hair twisted in an elegant side braid that rests gracefully against her light blue sweater. Liam keeps looking at her as if she’s the world, and Elsa keeps giving him coy little smiles as she looks down at her food.

Their affection is quiet, but it’s clear that they care deeply for one another. And Emma will deny it but a small part of her heart aches watching it—love like that is not something she can say she’s ever really experienced.

As far as she remembers at least.

The only person she can remember being with for more than a one-night stand is Neal. And that blew up in her face quicker than she can snap her fingers. She knows now that he never could have loved her the way he said he did. Someone who loves you doesn’t abandon you in the middle of nowhere with no money and no home, especially not after telling you that you’re impossible to love.

Just thinking about it takes her back to that cold night when she was young and stupid. Desperately grasping for any way to make him stay.

_“You’ve got too much baggage, Em. You’ve got these walls a mile high that stunt your emotions and make it impossible to connect with you. You’re just too hard to love. I don’t know… it’s just not worth it anymore.”_

Too hard to love.

Not worth it anymore.

Those are the words that have always stuck with her, no matter how hard she tries to erase them from her memory. They seem to be the one thing she _can’t_ forget. But it’s hard not to think that they hold some truth. Why else does everyone in her life end up abandoning her at some point?

Staring down at her plate, Emma picks at her sandwich and tunes out whatever conversation the other three are having.

Thoughts of Neal are not helping her mood, and she doesn’t _want_ to throw herself a pity party or anything, but she’d been hoping that coming here would trigger another memory. But so far she’s had no flashes, or epiphanies, or sudden images, or however the hell else memories are supposed to come back happen.

Placing her hands in her lap, Emma stares out the window. It’s dark out now, and the only thing to really look at is the blur from the headlights of the cars that pass by.  

A few minutes go by before she suddenly feels Killian take her hand beneath the table.

Jumping slightly, Emma turns to find him looking at her with a gentle concern in his eyes.

“You okay?” he mouths.

Swallowing thickly, she nods. Because what else is she supposed to do? It’s not his fault she’s feeling this way. And it’s not his fault she can’t seem to get a handle on her emotions.

But he has this uncanny ability to read her and he rubs a gentle thumb across her skin before he looks back up at Liam and Elsa. And in one smooth excuse, suggests they leave without drawing any attention to her.

“I had a long day at the harbor and need to get up early in the morning so I think Emma and I are going to head out.”

“Alright,” Liam nods and he doesn’t seem to suspect anything odd in Killian’s sudden wish to depart. “We’ll walk with you back to the cars.”

And with that Killian pulls out his wallet and leaves some change on the table for Granny before he turns and offers a hand to help her out of the booth.

She gives him a grateful smile, hoping that he can see it’s for so much more than merely helping her stand up.

* * *

On their way back to the car Emma somehow ends up walking beside Elsa as Killian and Liam walk a good few feet ahead of them.

They’re quiet for the first minute or so before Elsa’s voice breaks the silence. “Liam told me about what happened, with your accident and everything. It must be confusing.”

Emma releases a short humorless laugh, which comes out sounding more like a snort. Confusing doesn’t even scratch the surface.

“It is confusing,” she agrees. “Killian’s been good though, I’m sure I’d be even more lost without him. Or I’d just continue on like I’d been living my life before I moved to Boston, who knows.”

She shrugs but she knows she could never really do that. She knows that would probably only make the hole inside her feel bigger. From what she’s learned her life was good here in Boston, and she’s sure that even if she pretended that it never happened, a part of her would miss it.

“Do you have any family? Maybe being with someone you can remember will make recalling the memories you lost easier?” 

She knows Elsa’s suggestion is meant to be helpful, and it’s innocent in every way it can be, but it still stings. 

“I…uh…I don’t. I’ve never had any family, actually. My parents abandoned me on the side of the road when I was born and I spent my life bouncing around foster homes. So there’s not really anyone but Killian.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elsa gasps, her eyes wide with mortification. “That was insensitive. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Emma shakes her head. “No it’s okay. It happened a long time ago. It is what it is, and I’m good at being alone so—” She shrugs not sure what else to say.

“My parents died a few years ago. I know it’s not the same thing,” Elsa hurries to justify, “but I know a little bit of what it’s like to feel alone. I do have a sister, but she’s been off backpacking Europe with her fiancé for the last year. It was rough at first, but I got used to it and then I met Liam, and now I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Emma smiles, she likes Elsa. She’s kind and there’s a refined strength in the way she talks and carries herself that Emma can’t help but admire.

“Liam’s lucky to have you.”

Elsa laughs, a light and happy sound, before a blush fills her cheeks as she stares wistfully towards Liam. “I think it’s the other way around.” She pauses before giving her head a tiny shake and looking back at Emma. “What I was trying to say, though, is that if you ever just need a friend or someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Emma stares at Elsa a moment, considering her. She has to admit that they idea of having a friend who she’s not expected to know, and she’s not pressured to live up to any relationship they had before her accident, is an appealing one.

“Thank you,” she says seriously. “I may take you up on that.”

-CS-

Killian glances over his shoulder at Emma to find her laughing and smiling with Elsa. Grinning, he looks forward again and shoves his hands in his pockets. He knows something was troubling Emma at the diner, but he’s glad that for the moment she seems happy.

“I’m worried about you, Killian,”

His brother’s words feel abrupt and Killian skids to a stop, his brows pinching together in confusion as he stares at him. “What? Why?”

Sighing, Liam keeps walking and Killian has to take a few quick steps to catch up. “I’m not blind, Killian. I see the way you look at Emma, and I just think that maybe you are digging yourself in a little too deep.”

Killian narrows his eyes. “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You still love her.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and Killian clenches his jaw. He’d told Liam as much on the night of the accident. “Your point is?”

“My _point_ is that one day she’s going to get her memories back and you’re going to end up hurt again. And I think that maybe you should start distancing yourself. Maybe it’s time for you to help her find somewhere else to stay. Maybe it’s time for you to be the one to walk away.”

Killian inhales a sharp breath through his nose, trying to contain his sudden anger. But he can’t help the way it comes seeping out like venom when he answers. “And what? Let her end up on the street because she has nowhere to go and no money, and doesn’t have a bloody clue where she was living before?”

He’d be yelling if Emma wasn’t only feet behind him, and in very clear hearing range. Instead his voice comes out like a hiss, seething and dangerous, but Liam doesn’t back down.

“That may happen, it may not, you don’t know. But I think it’s what’s best.”

Killian flinches back, thrown by the fact that he’s never seen his brother this cold. “What the hell, Liam? You’re the one who said I should take her in to begin with.”

“Yes, and it was the right thing to do at the time. But she’s much better now and I think the right thing to do _now_ is to let her go.”

“She’s still healing!” Killian fumes, his fists clenching. “What happened to you telling me to be the friend she needs, huh?”

“Clearly that’s not something you can do. You’re not separating your feelings from this, and I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. She’s going to remember and—”

“I know!” Killian hisses before he takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. “I know. But let’s get one thing straight, I will _never_ force Emma to leave my home, just as I will never force her to stay. As long as she needs a roof over her head she has one. And I’m well aware that she’s going to get her memories back, probably more so than you, but I’m going to be here for Emma for as long as she needs. My feelings be damned.”  

“Killian—”

“No.” Killian puts his hands in the air to stop Liam. “I’m done talking about this. You’re right. I still love her. And it’s because I love her that I can’t do what you’re suggesting.”

Liam reaches out and tries to place a hand on Killian’s shoulder but he jerks away causing Liam to release another sigh. “I’m not saying to kick her to the street. Surely there’s another friend she can stay with for the time being? Or what about where she was living before the accident? She had to have been living somewhere—have you checked her license for her address? Or did you not even try to figure out where she was living?”

“Of course I did,” Killian growls in defense.  It’s not like he’s trying to force her to stay with him in some twisted way. He’d tried to find out where she was living a couple of days after the accident. But her license and everything else still had her listed as living in the apartment she’d been in before she moved in with him. And he knows for a fact she wasn’t living there because he’d looked for her there more than enough times after that night she disappeared from his life.

Wherever she’d been, it was just as impossible for him to figure it out now as it had been when she first left.

“Well?” Liam asks, expecting more of an answer.

“I’m done talking about this,” Killian repeats just as they make it to their cars. He’s not in the mood to explain or justify anything else to his brother. “Elsa is lovely; we definitely need to do something together again soon.”

He says the last bit just as Emma and Elsa catch up to them, and he’s sure only Liam can hear the dismissive tone in his voice.

Liam nods, wrapping an arm around Elsa’s waist as he leads her to the car. “Yeah, alright.”

Killian watches as Liam opens the door for Elsa and then jogs to the other side of the car to hop in. Elsa waves as they drive away and Killian watches until their car disappears, trying his best to calm his breathing.

Deep down he knows that his brother is only concerned about him, but he’s too upset at the moment to be anything but angry at him.

“Are you alright?” Emma asks and Killian jumps a little, pulled from his thoughts.

Spinning around to look at her, he tries to smile but it ends up being nothing more than a pathetic twitch of his lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His words come out breathy, traces of the intensity of his emotions still present.

Emma narrows her eyes, clearly not buying it. “Okay…”

Killian watches as Emma walks towards him, only for her to pass him and lean against the car, her back to the window and her face tipped up towards the starless sky.

“I really like Elsa,” she says after a minute, still looking up into the black night.

“Aye, she’s great.” And he really does mean it. Elsa was everything lovely and everything he’d ever hoped for his brother to find. And as upset as he is at Liam, he can’t fault her for any of his brother’s stubborn, self-righteous tendencies.

Emma blinks a few times before she pulls her gaze from the sky and studies him, her head tilting to the side and her forehead scrunching with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sighing, he pulls his hands from his pockets and joins her in leaning against the car. “Aye, love, I’m fine. I just have a brother who can be a bit of an idiot sometimes.”

“Ah,” Emma hums in sudden understanding. “I’ve never had any siblings, so I wouldn’t really know, but trust me I’ve definitely dealt with my fair share of people acting like idiots.”

Killian lets out a mirthless chuckle, but otherwise stays silent.  

Emma looks down at her shoes, swiveling her feet and tapping her toes together a few times before she pushes herself off the car and turns to him.

“Do you want to go on a walk with me?” She tilts her head back to indicate the road behind her and offers him a coy smile.

His lips fall open slightly as he stares at her, his words faltering for a moment before he licks his lips and blinks rapidly to clear his thoughts. He’d love nothing more, but he can’t help but worry she’s already pushed herself more than she should have today. “Are you sure you should be on your feet this much?”

She shrugs, and looks up at him through her lashes, and damn it she’s probably not even trying but he can’t help the way she makes his heart race.

“I can be tired tomorrow. I just don’t really want to go back to the apartment just yet.”  

And suddenly he remembers why they left the diner in the first place and the sadness he’d seen in her eyes. Maybe a walk would be good to clear both their heads.

Pushing off the car to join her, he gestures toward the empty sidewalk. “After you, Swan.”

She beams at him before biting her lip and ducking her head, and he swears he sees the tiniest of blushes color her cheeks.

There’s something about the way the lights of the city seem to shine through her hair and reflect off her eyes that steals the air from his lungs. And as he looks at her he thinks there’s just one thing his brother’s never going to understand.

Liam has no idea what it’s like to fall in love with Emma Swan, because if he did, he would know just how utterly impossible it is to be the one to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took a little longer, I was essentially on vacation for three weeks and then had a lot of life to catch up on when I got back. I hope you enjoy the chapter and next will come much sooner. Thanks so much for reading! Your love and enthusiasm for this little world makes me so happy. Just a reminder that full sections in italics are memories

Killian mixes a little more cinnamon into the batter before dipping the first piece of bread into the mixture and placing it on the skillet.

For what felt like the millionth time that week alone, he’d woken up way too early and had been unable to fall back asleep. And after nearly an hour of tossing and turning he’d given up, resigning himself to his sleepless fate.

With literal hours to kill before he had to do anything, he’d ended up taking an obscenely long, steaming shower, reading a few more chapters of his book, and deciding he might as well make french toast.

He yawns a bit as he places a few more pieces of bread on the skillet and lets the deep, warm smell of cinnamon and sugar surround him.  

It’s not much later that the sound of Emma padding barefoot into the kitchen reaches him, and glancing up he spots her in the midst of a deep yawn. Her arms stretch high above her head and Killian’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tantalizing inch of skin that’s revealed just above her sleep shorts.

His stomach swoops low and he swallows thickly, cursing how weak he is when it comes to his desire for her.

She relaxes from her yawn and Killian forces his eyes upward to see her run a hand through her tangled hair. She grimaces as she pulls herself up onto the barstool, the frown tugging at her lips making it seem as though the morning has somehow personally affronted her.

She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, and Killian can’t help but smile to himself as he watches her try to blink the sleep from her eyes. She’s never been a morning person, but he’s always found how long it takes her to fully wake up nothing short of adorable.  

Feeling his gaze, she lifts her focus and watches him curiously for a moment—the only sound between them is the popping and sizzling of the french toast as it mixes with the soft instrumental music Killian had turned on earlier as background music.

With a smile still tugging his lips, he slips the spatula under the bread and flips it over.

“Why are you smirking?” Emma asks after another beat of silence, her head titling as she scrunches her forehead in equal parts suspicion and confusion.

Killian lets out a small laugh and shakes his head, his smile only deepening. “No reason.”

She watches him for a second longer before she must figure that’s the only answer she’s going to get because she lifts her head from her hands and rolls her eyes. But Killian doesn’t miss the small smile that slips onto her lips as she looks down at the counter.   

“Not that I don’t love waking up to the smell of cinnamon,” Emma says after a moment, “but why the special breakfast?”

Killian shrugs. It’s true that the only other time he’s gotten up early to fix them a hot breakfast was the morning after she left the hospital, so it’s not a far stretch for her to think there’s a reason he’s doing it again. And even though there _is_ a reason—besides just that he couldn’t sleep—he wishes they were at a place where she wouldn’t question him wanting to do something for her.

“Well,” he muses as he tries to gather his thoughts, unsure why he’s suddenly nervous. “Today is the day you get your stitches out, and I thought maybe we could celebrate your recovery with some french toast and a day exploring the city like you wanted?”

“Oh,” Emma breathes simply, her lashes fluttering as she blinks rapidly, and Killian feels his heart stumble at the way her eyes stay glued to his.

She doesn’t elaborate, and Killian suddenly finds his earlier nerves rising. Just because she’d said she wanted to do this a couple of weeks ago, doesn’t mean that she still does. And the longer she stares at him without saying anything else, the more he wishes he could sink into the floor and disappear.

He shouldn’t have assumed she’d want to spend the day with him.

So it’s with a tense scratch of his ear that he looks down and begins scooping the french toast from the skillet and placing them on a plate. Doing his best to avoid eye contact as he stammers out his next words.

“Of course that’s only if you want to. If you’d rather do something else, or go on your own I understand. I didn’t mean to—”

“I think that sounds wonderful,” Emma interjects, effectively cutting off his rambling.

Killian snaps his head up and finds Emma beaming at him, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

He can’t help the hopeful smile that begins edging its way onto his lips. “You do?”

“Of course I do. I just forgot that was today.” She practically leaps off the barstool as she says this, as if eager to forego breakfast all together and leave that very second. “I haven’t remembered anything from the pictures, and the only memories that have come back besides meeting you are small things that don’t really matter.  I just think that being out and seeing things and hearing things is what’s going to help me get back the big stuff.”

She says this all rather fast and very serious, and Killian can only imagine how sick she is of her predicament. And as he watches her, he feels a sudden surge of empathy and tenderness rise inside him. He wishes more than anything, that he could pull her to him and wrap his arms around her, but instead he’s left trying to do the same thing with only his words.

“It’ll all come back, Swan,” he breathes, his voice low and soft.

She bites her lip on some sudden emotion, and then looks down as she shrugs. “I know. I uh…I’ll just go get dressed so we can go.”

 Killian knows her well enough to know she’s only deflecting in order to avoid the ache he’s sure is in her heart.

But he also knows her well enough not to push.

“Breakfast first, love,” he says as he lifts a hand and gives her forehead a couple soft taps with his index finger. “Then we’ll go work on finding some of those memories of yours.”

* * *

They sit next to each other in relative silence as they wait for Emma to be called back to have her stitches removed. And when a nurse arrives and calls out Emma’s name, Killian offers her a reassuring smile as she stands and follows the woman down the hall.

As she walks out of sight he feels his phone buzz, and pulling it from his pocket he looks down and spots a text from his brother.

_Liam: I’m sorry for upsetting you. I just want what’s best for you._

Killian sighs, slumping down and resting his head against the back of the chair as he stares up at the ceiling. 

It’s been a few days since their argument, and Killian’s given Liam nothing but radio silence.

A huge part of it is because he’s still upset and hasn’t had the desire for another lecture on what he should and shouldn’t do concerning Emma. But a smaller part is that despite his current irritation towards him,  he hasn’t been able to help the way at least part of Liam’s words have begun to slink into his thoughts, as much as he tries to push them away.

He really is getting in too deep—and in all likelihood there _is_ only one way this is all going to play out. But as much as he recognizes that at the end of everything he’s going to end up hurt again, he knows he’s not going to do anything different. And he’s not sure what masochistic things that says about himself.

But he’d do anything for Emma Swan.

He’s just putting his phone back in his pocket, deciding he’ll answer Liam later, when he hears his name being called out.

“Mr. Jones.”

Looking up Killian spots the same doctor who took care of Emma after her accident making his way over to him.

The kind, graying man weaves his way between the waiting room chairs and tables; his white doctor’s coat a perfect match for the room’s stark walls. Killian stands and takes his offered hand, shaking it firmly as he tries to match the man’s solid grip.

“How’s Emma doing?” the doctor asks, real concern in his question.  

“She’s good. She’s uh—” Killian looks around him for a second and gestures vaguely to somewhere down the hall. “She’s here getting her stitches out.”

The doctor nods his head and his glasses slip somewhat down his nose as his lips press into a thoughtful line. “That’s good to hear. And what about those memories of hers? Any progress so far?”

“Not a lot,” Killian says shaking his head. “She’s had a few come back, but that’s it.”

“Any memories this soon after the accident is a good thing,” he says pushing his glasses back up. “It means the rest should have no problem returning at some point. These things take time, but they do tend to build as time goes on. She’ll remember more and more until one day it’ll just all be back. Keep your chin up Jones; she’ll remember everything before you know it.”

Killian nods in thanks, hoping his smile doesn’t look as tight and fake as it feels. He knows the doctor means to be reassuring, but his words have somehow tangled a knot inside his chest that leaves his lungs feeling dense and heavy.  

With nothing left to say, the doctor pats Killian on the shoulder before he turns and makes his way over to the information desk and begins talking to one of the nurses behind it.

Killian watches them for a second before he releases a deep sigh and drops back into his chair, his head falling forward into his hands.

He wants Emma to get her memories back, he really does. But a very selfish part of him keeps whispering how once she does, he more than likely is going to lose her again. And he hates himself for wanting to hold onto her for as long as possible.

But it’s not right of him to want to keep her this way, when he’s pretty sure an Emma that remembers everything wants nothing to do with him. The _right_ thing to do—as much as it hurts him—is to help her get her memories so she can move on with her life.

-CS-

Emma gazes out at the bright colors of Boston’s Public Garden as they make their way across the little suspension bridge that rests above the park’s lagoon.

There’s something about the colors at the end of October that breathes warmth into the otherwise brisk air. The garden is full of trees of bright orange, yellow, and red. Hints of green still cling to a few trees as one last effort to hold onto summer, but autumn is taking over—swift and vibrant as the cold winds it brings with it.

Once they reach the middle of the bridge Emma makes her way over to the railing and rests her forearms on the metal as she looks down at the water. Leaves drift in lazy patterns atop the water like countless bright freckles against the deep blue of the lagoon. At the water’s edge, a pair of swans float gently under a willow tree as their little cygnets splash and play in the water. Dipping their heads beneath the surface only to come back up and shake the water from their feathers.

It’s beautiful and peaceful, and Emma feels a familiar desire to paint swell somewhere just beneath her breastbone. She hasn’t painted in the longest time, and she can feel the urge calling to her, waiting for her to pick up a brush and capture this moment.

She breathes in deep and closes her eyes, letting the breeze tickle her skin until she senses Killian coming to rest against the railing beside her. Opening her eyes she stares back out at the water, watching the reflection of the trees ripple on the water’s surface.

“It’s so pretty,” she finally whispers, turning her head to see him staring off at the little family of swans.

He hums and shoves his hands deep in his pockets. “Aye, it is. It’s one of your favorite spots here in Boston.”

She smiles to herself and looks back out just in time to see one of the baby swans climb on top of its mother’s back.

They’ve spent the whole day going to what Killian has declared as her favorite places. Her favorite coffee shop, her favorite bookstore, her favorite practically everything—but this is the first place that actually stirs something inside her.  

The wind picks up, blowing her hair in her face and she reaches up to tuck it behind her ear before turning to face Killian. She leans her side against the bridge and tilts her head as she watches him for a moment.

His handsome jaw is tense and there’s a brooding crease to his brow, but she finds herself distracted by the way his dark hair lifts and tangles in the wind, and by the way the blue of his eyes seems a little darker when he’s in serious thought.

And as she studies him, something she’s not quite ready to define swirls in her chest and dances in her stomach.

She’d told him, that day when he came and found her at the harbor, that he felt familiar to her. And as more time has passed and she’s spent more time with him, that feeling has only grown, and she’s quickly recognizing that it might be evolving into something else.

She likes him. And as scary as that is, she’s desperate to know what her feelings had been for him before this whole mess. But she doesn’t remember and he’s been adamant on their so called _friendship_.

But she’s not an idiot, and he knows way more about her than any casual friend would. Then there’s the way he looks at her, the way he treats her, and the way her heart just seems to want to be near him.

She just can’t figure out why he would keep it from her if they are something a little more.

It’s maddening, feeling like he should be something more to her but being told he’s not.  

“And did we ever come here together?” she asks. She watches his reaction carefully, she knows she’s digging, but if he won’t tell her anything all she has to go on are the small moments that catch him off guard. The small moments where his real feelings slip free before he carefully controls his answer.

She’s not disappointed. She’d miss it if she wasn’t looking. He inhales sharply, his tongue darting out to lick his lips and his lashes fluttering furiously as he tries to blink away a deeper melancholy that she doesn’t miss.

But it’s gone when his eyes meet hers. Whisked away as he gives her an answer that doesn’t tell her anything she actually wants to know.

“Once or twice.”

“Hmm,” she hums, and she wonders if he can hear the skepticism in her tone. “And what did we do here?”

He shrugs, his eyes suddenly able to look everywhere but at her. “More or less what we’re doing now.”

“I see,” she muses. And she’s not sure what’s gotten into her, but she suddenly wants to push him. Wants to see if she can make him reveal something— _anything._

So she takes a purposeful step closer to him, placing herself almost chest to chest with him as she lifts her gaze to watch him carefully.  

His lips part as his breath catches in his chest and _finally_ his eyes meet hers. She could count his lashes she’s so close.

Killian swallows thickly, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers. “Emma?” he whispers unsure, his voice breaking on the last syllable of her name.

Her eyes drop to his lips and she wonders for a second what he would do if she were to simply rise a little on her toes and press her lips to his. But she doesn’t get to find out because in the next instant he’s stepping back and running a hand through his hair.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters almost to himself as he drags a hand down his face and across his scruff. “I uh—I have—” he swallows again. “There’s one more place I want to show you before we head back. If you want?”

Emma sighs, disappointed, and sinks back a step. “Alright, sure.”

A very big part of her wants to stomp her foot down and demand he tell her what she knows he must be hiding. But a more reasonable part of her keeps her mouth shut. There’s still the very real chance that she’s reading too much into things and that there’s nothing to keep from her.

But whatever they were or weren’t in the past, Emma knows what she’s starting to feel in the here and now.

And she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t say it kind of scared the hell out of her.

* * *

_Emma’s feet pound against the pavement in time with the song playing through her earbuds. She breathes hard, the air puffing in visible clouds in front of her in the early December air._

_She loves running, even in the winter. Loves the way her exposed skin stings a little from the cold, while the rest of her body basks in the heat of her exertion. But most of all she loves the burning of her muscles as she pushes herself forward._

_She loves running in the morning especially. There’s a quiet beauty to Boston when the sun is still trying to rise, when it’s still early enough that not many are out and on their way to work yet. When the snow is still fresh and uninterrupted from where it fell the night before._

_It’s quiet and peaceful, and the perfect time to think._

_The parks in particular, are beautiful and one of her favorite places to run. She loves the pockets of the city where it’s more nature than skyscraper._

_The public garden is a wonder of its own. The frozen lagoon and the snow cloaking the trees making it look like it’s from some other world—some enchanted forest caught in the depths of winter._

_Her head is turned, looking out across the water as she crosses the bridge in the middle of the park, and so when she impacts with something solid she loses all sense of equilibrium and is sent flying forward. A cry of surprise bursting from her lips as she lands with a hard thump on top of something solid._

_The impact reverberates through her bones and she grimaces as she pushes herself up slightly, staring down at the person she’s now lying on top of._

_An apology forms just behind her lips until she recognizes the dark hair that’s peeking out from underneath a gray beanie, and though the man’s eyes are scrunched shut in momentary pain she knows they’ll open to reveal a vivid blue._

_“Killian?” she gasps, tugging her earbuds from her ears, the white cords swinging as they dangle towards Killian’s chest._

_“Bloody hell,” he gasps and coughs before opening his eyes. “Emma?”_

_Realizing that she’s still lying on top of him, Emma scrambles to her feet, brushing the snow from her leggings before she offers him a hand. “I’m so sorry,” she stammers as she pulls him to his feet. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”_

_“No don’t apologize,” Killian says lifting a gloved hand to pull out his own headphones. It’s then that Emma notices the trail of sweat starting at his neckline and v-ing towards his chest. He must have been on a run of his own. “I wasn’t watching either, got a little distracted by the scenery.”_

_Emma laughs at the incredulity of it all. She can’t believe that out of all people for her to quite literally run into, it would be Killian._

_She would never admit it to him, but for the past few weeks she’s been going to the harbor a lot more than usual, always with the hope of finding him there._

_She’d tried to deny her growing attraction to him for days—had even avoided the harbor for a full week. But the more time she’d spent with him the more she realized it was futile to resist the pull he has on her._

_They stare at each other in silence for a beat before Emma shakes her head trying to clear it. “Are you okay? I landed on you pretty hard.”_

_He pretends to check himself, patting his chest as he looks down towards his legs. “Everything still seems to be intact,” he says with a smirk, his eyebrow arching high._

_Emma can’t help but smile in return. “Good.” She looks around for a second, remembering why she’s out here in the first place. “I should get back to my run…but it was good seeing you.”_

_She moves to place her headphones back in her ear when Killian reaches out and stops her._

_“Wait. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now but—” He withdraws his hand from her forearm and uses it to scratch behind his ear, looking down at the floor, his winter kissed cheeks somehow getting even pinker. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out…with me I mean.”_

_He lifts his eyes to hers expectant, and Emma swears her heart flips._

_“Sure.” Emma answers, cringing internally at herself for sounding so eager._

_Killian beams at her, and she’s suddenly no longer worried about coming across too enthusiastic. “Yeah? Okay, how about tomorrow? Say six?”_

_“Okay,” Emma nods, her smile just as big as his. “I guess I’ll give you my number then.”_

_"Okay,” he echoes. And she swears one of their faces is going to crack from how much they’re both smiling._

_Later, as she makes her way back to her apartment, she feels like her heart is hammering louder than the music playing in her ear, and for once it’s not from the running._

* * *

The memory comes to her as they’re driving, and Emma’s silent as she stares out the window, the setting sun visible in flashes as it peeks out from behind the buildings blurring past them.

She thought excitement would be her first response to a new memory, but instead she’s just more confused. It’s clear now that at some point they’d both held an attraction to each other and that they’d been on at least one date. So why hasn’t Killian told her any of this?

Her thoughts eat at her as she tries to come up with some explanation for everything, and she hardly notices when Killian stops the car and walks around to open the door for her.

It turns out that his last destination for them is the beach. But she can’t muster anything but silence as she follows him out towards the ocean.

The sun has almost completely disappeared beneath the horizon and she watches the ocean kiss the shore over and over before Killian finally says something.

His voice drifts over to her, as soft and easy as the ocean breeze. “You’re awfully quiet, Swan.”  

She kicks a bit of sand and starts walking parallel with the sea. “Just thinking,”

It’s not a _lie_ , she is thinking after all, but her silence is a product of so much more than her thoughts.

She wants to tell him of her newest memory but something keeps her quiet. There has to be a reason he’s keeping things from her, and maybe the best thing to do is to just wait and figure it out on her own.

On the other hand, a very large part of her doesn’t want to stay quiet. Instead she wants so desperately to be mad at him. To rage in indignation and demand to know what he’s keeping.

But then she thinks about all the things he’s done for her, all the kindness he’s shown her. She thinks about the sadness she periodically sees in his eyes when he thinks she’s not looking—and she just _can’t._

Because she can’t help but think that maybe she’s the reason for that sadness.

She knows she has walls a mile high—and maybe what he’s not telling her is that she just never let him in.

That they’re a sad story of two people who never happened because one was too damaged to let the other love her.

Even if deep down, letting someone love her is all she’s ever wanted.

She sighs and slips off her shoes, burying her toes in the sand as she reflects on everything.

Pushing him away, or never giving him a real chance definitely sound like things she’d do. It would explain why the distance he tries to keep between them conflicts so starkly with the longing she sees in his eyes.

She walks a little closer to the ocean, just far enough out that when the tide comes in, the cold water barely skims over the top of her feet before it’s dragged back out to sea.

The sand trickles out from under her toes as the water disappears and she stares hard at the wet sand, willing the ocean to give her some clarity.  Because isn’t there some ridiculous saying about how the sea is supposed to heal everything, or something?

One thing is for sure though, and that is that Killian has been a constant light as she’s fumbled her way through the dark these past few weeks. And his _warmth_ has seeped inside her—she can _feel_ him in her bones, thrumming through her veins, and racing through her thoughts.

He’s almost all she thinks about lately.

And if Killian is keeping his distance from her for some noble reason of respecting a decision she made in the past, she’s almost certain she doesn’t want him to.

She knows herself well enough to know that she probably pushed him away.

And maybe this accident has given her a new perspective on things, or maybe it’s just given her a second chance, but she suddenly wants to show him that—if he wants—she’s ready to let him in.

Because as terrifying as it is, maybe it’s time to just let her heart find a home.

“Killian…” She licks her lips and looks up at him, her feelings swelling and crashing through her like the waves they’re standing next to. Flooding through her until they steal everything she wants to say and she’s left stammering for some way to articulate what’s spinning wildly inside her.

But she’s not even good with words to begin with, so instead she reaches for his hand and traces her thumb against his skin.

It’s like the contact triggers something inside him, and he groans as he closes his eyes and drops his forehead to rest against hers.

Suddenly her breathing spikes and her pulse begins pounding in her ears.

“Emma.”

The way he says it is almost pained, like saying her name is one of the hardest things he’s ever done.

They stay that way for what feels like an eternity. Pressed together, Killian with his eyes shut tight breathing as if he’s struggling with some internal conflict, and Emma doing her best to gain control of her racing heart.

He’s so close, and this is way more intense than she was expecting when she reached for his hand.

It’s entirely overwhelming, but not necessarily in a bad way.

But she still takes a shaking breath and steps back, keeping their hands locked. Because though she may be ready to let him in, it’s still a little too much at once.

As his eyes open and meet hers, she finds herself unable to say everything she wanted to. Too overwhelmed to say anything except what her scarred heart deems the safest.  

“I just want to say thank you…for everything, not just today.”

And though it’s not exactly what she wanted to tell him, she’s still rewarded with a smile that makes her heart stutter.

He lifts his other hand, almost like he’s helpless not to, and brushes back a bit of her hair. “Anything, Swan. I’d do anything for you.”

Dazed, she stares at him as her lungs try to remember what it means to breathe.

She doesn’t need her memories to know just how much he means it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your love for this story! I read every comment like a hundred times they make me so happy. Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Emma inhales a long breath through her nose as she stands next to Killian in the middle of David and Mary Margaret’s porch. The outside of their house is just as quaint and perfect as the couple that owns it. A pot of hydrangeas sits in the corner, and off to the left rests a set of white wicker furniture that looks like it came straight out of one of those home and garden magazines.

Killian had done a valiant job in fending off Mary Margaret’s desire for one of her so-called friend dinners for as long as he could. And he probably would have held it off even longer if Emma hadn’t told him it was okay.

Sure, the last time she’d seen the couple she’d ran off with a desperate need for space and air—but that had been literal days after her accident and she’d had weeks to adjust now. She figures she’s going to remember everything at some point, so she might as well start trying to embrace the people that claim they’re a part of her life now.

Licking her lips she stares at the dark wood of the front door—a sign that reads _The Nolan’s_ in white spiraling letters hangs right in the center—and straightens her spine a little, steeling herself.

_She can do this._

The soft sound of Killian sighing beside her grabs her attention and she turns to find a worried frown pressing down on his features.

“We really don’t have to go in, love.”

She lets out a sigh of her own. She really does appreciate his concern, but it makes her heart ache that ‘sad and brooding’ has been his mood of choice lately. Especially because she’s pretty sure it’s her fault. And she wishes it was the other way around—that she was the reason for his smiles or his laughter, instead of the worried crease between his brows that seems to have become a permanent resident.  

“No, it’s okay. We’re already here and besides,” she lifts the glass pan she’s holding, the tinfoil covering it crinkling slightly, and smirks. Maybe a little teasing will lighten his mood. “We wouldn’t want to waste this…what did you call these again? I mean you spent all day on them. It would be a shame if everyone didn’t get to try them.”

She gives the dish a skeptical look, biting back a smile when his eyebrows arch in mock offense.

“Cheesy potatoes, darling. And don’t knock them till you try them.”

“Right,” she laughs.

His eyes sparkle for a moment as he smiles with her, and Emma feels her heart lighten. But too soon, he grows serious again.

“If it gets to be too much, just tell me. I promise we’ll leave.”

His gaze is intent on hers, and there’s something in his blue eyes that is so beautiful, so safe and warm, that Emma has to blink to try and keep the stunned look off her face. She’s had a harder time suppressing the way she feels about him ever since she decided that she was ready to let him in, and it doesn’t help when he looks at her the way he does.

Inhaling through her nose, she takes a second to chastise herself—she really needs to get a grip on things.

“I’ll let you know if I need a little air. But I want to do this—it’ll be good for me to get to know everyone.”

He smiles at that, and she counts it as a victory.Maybe she’ll start tallying his smiles, make it her goal to create as many as she can.

He turns to the door then, and gives it a solid knock.

The sign reading _The Nolan’s_ swings back and forth against the dark wood as the door opens _._

David stands on the other side, his dark plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his face splitting into a giant grin the second he sees them.

“Emma! Killian! I’m so glad you guys made it.” 

Killian immediately steps up and embraces the man. “Hey, Dave”

David thumps Killian on the back as he laughs. “We weren’t sure you’d come, Mary Margaret is going to be thrilled. Everyone else is already here.”

Killian releases a low chuckle. “We’re glad we could make then.”

When the two separate David turns his attention to Emma. “You’re looking better, Emma. How are you feeling?”

David’s grin is contagious, and she finds herself smiling in return. “Much better, thank you.”

David looks her over as if he wants to say something more serious but stops himself with a tiny shake of his head. “That’s good to hear. Here I’ll take that—” he hurries forward to take the pan from her hands. “Come on in. I’ll take this to the kitchen, I’m sure everyone’s going to be excited to see you.”

He steps aside and Emma and Killian walk into the front room. The high ceilings give the house an open and airy feel, and everything is as picture perfect as the front porch. The only difference is that the inside has a lot more of a vintage feel. Things are mismatched in a way that is somehow completely charming, and there’re plenty of plants and flowers around to keep the space feeling light and fresh.

People are chatting happily to each other and Emma finds herself stopping in her tracks, taking a deep breath as she counts them. There are a lot—more than she was expecting—and she feels the beginnings of panic start to cram itself into her chest.

But as it rises and builds inside her, she’s brought back down by the sudden warmth of Killian’s hand at her back. She focuses on the contact and instantly the rush of anxiety inside her quiets, her breathing feeling easier.

She looks up to find him gazing at her with an arched brow, as if asking if she’s still okay. Nodding, she gives him a tentative smile—she can handle this.

She looks out again and forces herself to really _look._

Liam stands in a corner whispering and laughing with Elsa, and Granny’s sitting on the couch talking with some brunette she doesn’t yet know. But the longer she looks the more she realizes that a few people she already knows, and that most of the rest of them she recognizes from the pictures Killian gave her.

She just needs to keep reminding herself that no one here is expecting her to remember them.

Killian keeps his hand at her waist as they walk further into the house—for which Emma is grateful because she’s not too sure what she’d do if he left.

But she should know by now, that she never gets everything she wants.

“Hey Killian!” David calls from the other side of the room, his head poking in from a set of french doors leading to an outdoor patio. “Come out back and help me set up these tables for a minute.”

“Sure thing,” he calls back before turning to her, his hand rubbing up and down her back almost subconsciously. “You okay on your own?”

“Of course,” she tries to shrug off his concern, though she’s not quite sure she believes her own words.

He seems to sense her apprehension and takes a moment to bend down and whisper in her ear. “I’ll be back before you know it, love. Promise.”

And just like that she’s left standing in the middle of the room completely alone.

She fidgets on her feet for a minute, unsure of what to do. The noise around her is just a static of indistinguishable talking and laughter as she watches everyone around her. Surprisingly no one’s coming up to her—which is quite the opposite of what she expected—and she finds herself relaxing just a little.  

She spots Mary Margaret the second the woman steps out from underneath an archway that leads to another room. The petite, cardigan clad brunette comes gliding towards her—the bottom of her white skirt rustling slightly as she all put skips up to Emma, Leo settled snugly on her hip.

“Emma, I’m so glad you’re here!”

Mary Margaret’s smile is a little breathless and it crinkles her eyes in a way that makes it almost impossible not to smile back.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” she continues. “Killian told us how last time we came over was a little much and I’m _so_ sorry about that. We shouldn’t have come over so soon.”

Emma shakes her head quickly. It’s hard to blame someone like Mary Margaret. She’s just so _good._ “No it’s okay, really. I was still adjusting and I got a little overwhelmed is all.”

“I still felt terrible,” she tells her as she bounces Leo lightly, the baby sucking on his fingers while his other hand curls around the neckline of Mary Margaret’s sweater. “But you look beautiful, Emma. How are things going? Any memories come back yet?”

Emma shrugs, wondering just how many times she’s going to be asked that today. “A few.”

_She wishes it was a few more._

“That’s good though.” Mary Margaret reaches out and rubs a reassuring hand down Emma’s arm. “Don’t give up hope, everything will come back and everything will work out. It always does.”  

Emma’s not so sure it _always_ does, but she smiles in thanks just the same.

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret gasps suddenly, looking across the room at the wooden clock hanging on the wall. “I totally forgot about the ham in the oven.”

Mary Margaret places Leo in Emma’s arm and before she can even open her mouth in protest the woman is dashing off for the kitchen.

Emma blinks, staring after where Mary Margaret disappeared before she turns her attention to the baby in her arms.

“Hey, Leo” she whispers unsure as she sways back and forth a bit.

Leo grins at her, and it’s nothing but gums, before he reaches forward and pats his hand against her cheek.

Emma laughs softly before she reaches up and grabs his hand, all five of his tiny fingers wrapping around just one of hers. “Aren’t you sweet?” She tickles at his side a little and delights in the way he giggles and drops his head to her shoulder in an attempt to evade her fingers.

“He’s always liked you.”

Emma snaps her head up to find a woman with large green eyes and dark brown hair standing next to her. Her lips colored a dark shade of red that matches the burnt burgundy of her shirt.

“Leo, I mean,” she clarifies. “He’s always liked you.”

“Oh,” Emma breathes, not sure what else to say.

“I’m Ruby, by the way,” she tells her and reaches out a hand. Emma has to shift her hold on Leo slightly to shake it. “Killian told everyone beforehand to give you space and not overwhelm you.” She rolls her eyes just a bit, but it’s good natured. “He has a tendency to be overprotective.”

Emma laughs just a little. The lack of people bombarding her the second she walked through the door suddenly making sense.

“You disagree with his tactics I take it?”

Ruby shrugs and reaches up to rub a gentle hand through Leo’s hair. “I’ve never really listened to him anyways. Besides, I figure as long as I don’t hug you, you’ll be fine.”

Emma laughs out right at this. Ruby’s got a bit of fire to her, but she can’t help but like how straightforward she is.

“I appreciate that,” she tells her, still laughing. “I can’t tell you how many people I don’t know have hugged me since the accident.”

Ruby’s lips tip up in a half smile as if this doesn’t surprise her. “We’re friends, Emma. Trust me. That doesn’t change just because you don’t remember it.”

Ruby’s words take her aback a bit, but they still strike a chord that resonates deep inside her. These people are a part of her life…somehow. She’s not sure if she can explain it in words, but she feels it.

Silence passes between them for a moment before Ruby brings a hand up and gestures in the direction Mary Margaret had disappeared to earlier. “Well, I’m going to go see if they need help in the kitchen. I thought I smelled something burning earlier.”

“Alright, it was good…” Emma struggles for a minute for a word that doesn’t sound like she’s dismissing Ruby’s earlier declaration of friendship, but finds she can’t think of anything else. “It was good to meet you.”

“We’ll catch up soon,” Ruby says with a wink before she makes her exit, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she follows Mary Margaret’s path to the kitchen.

With a sigh Emma turns to Leo and bounces him till he giggles again. “That wasn’t so bad.”  

He babbles back at her in answer before grabbing a chunk of her hair and yanking lightly. Emma flinches as she gently pries her hair from his fingers and flips it over shoulder and out of reach of his tiny hands.

Mary Margaret still hasn’t come back for her baby, and feeling awkward just standing there, Emma makes her way to an empty couch and sits down. She stands Leo up on her thighs, an invitation he takes to immediately start bouncing, his little knees bending and straightening excitedly like it’s a game he’s played a thousand times.

Distracted by Leo’s giggles, Emma doesn’t notice Killian come back into the house until she feels the couch dip beside her and hears his voice low in her ear.

“Found yourself a friend, Swan?”

He’s close enough that she only has to turn her head slightly to look at him. He has one arm relaxing on the couch behind her and the other hand resting on his leg—which he has propped up, his ankle resting easy on his knee.

He looks relaxed and comfortable, which is so much better than the anxious and worried look he’d been displaying earlier, and Emma finds herself smiling at him.

“He’s the best company,” she answers as she scrunches her nose and leans forward to shake her hair playfully in Leo’s face, laughing at the way it makes him giggle. “He hasn’t asked me how I’m feeling once.”

Killian lets out a low chuckle and reaches forward to tickle at Leo’s side. “That’s a lad.”

Leo’s eyes widen as he looks at Killian, and he begins bouncing again, releasing a happy shrill. They both smile at the noise and Emma’s heart squeezes with affection when Leo reaches forward to run his hand over Killian’s scruff.  

Killian lets Leo rub his cheek for a minute before he opens his mouth and pretends to bite at his hand, which only succeeds in increasing the baby’s giggles.

“Dinner’s about ready, we should probably head outside.”

“Alright,” Emma agrees. She looks toward the patio door just as Liam exits through it with Elsa, and Emma pauses a second as she looks at the couple.

Killian and Liam haven’t said two words to each other since they arrived, and just from what she knows, that doesn’t seem usual for the two brothers.

“You and Liam still fighting?”

Killian looks out and watches his brother through the window, his jaw clenching before he answers. “We just disagree on a few things at the moment.”

“You should talk to him.”

“I don’t think either of us is going to change our stance on things.”

“He’s still your brother.” Emma shrugs. She knows it’s probably not her place, but she also knows how she’d give anything to have family the way he does.

Killian sighs, long and deep as he scrubs a hand down his face. “Aye, that he is.” He pauses as he pushes himself off the couch and turns to offer her a hand. “Liam and I will get there, don’t worry, Swan. Our fights never last too long anyways. Should we go find ourselves a spot to sit?”

Emma can recognize when someone’s intentionally changing the subject, so she simply nods as she shifts Leo onto her hip and let’s Killian pull her to her feet.

They walk outside together, the fresh air cool and sharp against their skin. Gazing around the backyard Emma stops for a moment. It’s clear that Mary Margaret is a woman who probably outdoes herself more often than not.

Strings of lights cross over the backyard, hanging all the way from the roof to the top of the tall fence that lines their property. Several tables are pressed together to make one long dinner table covered in an elegant white linen table cloth. Each chair has a light burlap placemat in front of it, equipped with plates, silverware, and glasses. Several centerpieces of flowers rest in small little glass bowls to top everything off.

And yet, everyone continues to mill about and talk to one another as if something this extravagant is completely normal.

“It’s beautiful,” Emma comments under her breath.  

She hears Killian chuckle a little beside her and she turns to find him smirking. “Mary Margaret does love her dinner parties.”

Emma hums in agreement just as David comes walking towards them.

“There’s my little buddy!” he exclaims just as he reaches out and takes Leo from her arms. Once he’s settled at David’s side, Leo instantly rests his head on his dad’s shoulder. Two of his little fingers find their way into his mouth, and Emma feels just a little sad to not have him in her arms anymore.

“Why don’t you guys find a seat?” David continues. “We should be getting started any second.”

Emma ends up sitting with Killian on one side of her and Elsa on the other. Which she’s happy for as it seems like the most non-threatening spot at the dinner table.

Mary Margaret stands near the head of the table and clears her throat. She beams at everyone, her hands clasped in front of her as she waits for silence to fall. “I’m _so_ happy that we finally got around to doing this,” she gushes once everyone is looking at her. “It’s been far too long since we’ve all gotten together. Not to mention that today is special because Emma’s here.”

Emma can feel everyone turn and look at her, and suddenly uncomfortable, she drops her gaze to the plate in front of her, figuring maybe it won’t feel quite as bad if she doesn’t make eye contact with anyone.

“Anyway,” Mary Margaret continues as she waves her hands, clearly catching on to Emma’s aprehension. “We’re happy she’s doing better, and I was thinking that, if it’s okay with you Emma, we could go around the table and say our names. Just so you can start feeling like you know everyone again.”

Looking up, Emma finds Mary Margaret staring at her with hesitant but hopeful eyes as she waits for her to answer.

Emma swallows, reminding herself that these _are_ in fact her friends, and that Mary Margaret only has the best intentions. She glances at Killian, seeking a second’s worth of strength before she turns back to Mary Margaret. “Sure, th-that would be okay.”

“Wonderful!” Mary Margaret claps her hands once as she sits down, bringing her hands to her chest as she says, “I’m Mary Margaret.” She turns her attention to her husband, encouraging him to continue on with her little school game.

David chuckles good-naturedly. “I’m David, and this here is little Leo.”

It continues on like that, and Emma does her best to remember everyone’s names. But she’s not sure if by tomorrow she’ll remember who was Regina, or who was Belle, or if the cute little boy with dimples name was Raymond or Roland.

But she does now that it’s hard to believe she ever had this many friends. And something swells inside her chest that isn’t entirely bad. It’s warm and suffocating in a way that almost brings tears to her eyes, but after a while the smile it brings to her lips is a genuine one.

She feels loved, for the first time in a very, very long time.

And overwhelmed, she reaches to her right beneath the table, seeking out Killian’s hand. When she finds it she squeezes it hard before turning to look at him. His brow furrows for a moment at the tears in her eyes, but when he catches sight of her smile his face relaxes.

Squeezing her hand back, he winks at her and rubs his thumb across the back of her hand.

And his touch, combined with everything else she’s feeling, is enough to make her heart burst.

-CS-

It’s late by the time they make it home, and Killian watches affectionately as Emma flops down on the couch, her body sprawled across the entirety of it.

She sighs dramatically and he chuckles at her as he moves to turn on one of the lamps standing in the corner of the room. He doesn’t bother turning the rest of the lights on, letting the twinkling lights of the city shining in through the open windows illuminate the apartment.

It keeps the room dim, but he likes the way the city creates delicate patterns of light against the black night, glittering and blinking like trapped stars. It bathes everything in a soft orange glow, and Emma in particular looks beautiful with the light and shadows of the city dancing across her features.

He begins weaving his way through the furniture, and makes to sit in the armchair across from Emma when she sits up. Her hair falls from her shoulder and swings against her back as she pats the cushion next to her in invitation.

“I’m glad we went,” she hums after he sits down, a relaxed tilt to her head and an easy smile on her lips.  

He’s glad too. Admittedly he’d been hesitant at first—and was ready to get Emma out of there the second she asked—but his worry had turned out to be unnecessary. And as the night went on and Emma only seemed to get happier and happier, he felt like his own heart was soaring watching her.

They’re quiet for a moment, the silence between them easy and gentle. It’s almost peaceful enough to fall asleep too, and his eyes drift closed for just a second until the sound of Emma resituating herself on the couch grabs his attention.

He opens his eyes to find her facing him, her fingers fiddling in her lap and her eyes downcast.

Killian furrows his brow and watches her. He knows that look just as much as he knows any of her other looks.

“What is it, Swan?”

She looks up at him, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip as if it might keep her from saying what’s on her mind. Eventually she releases a deep breath, her small shoulders dropping as she exhales.

“I’ve just been thinking about a lot of things lately… and I have some questions…”

She trails off, looking at him seriously and Killian feels a weight drop in his stomach.

He swallows, resisting the sudden need to wipe his palms on his pants as dread at what she’s about to ask coils and knots in his stomach. She _could_ very well be wondering about anything, but he can’t help but fear that she’s going to ask about what happened between them.

He knows she needs to know, he knows that he needs to tell her. But in spite of all of this he hasn’t been able to bring himself to say it.

It’s like his mind knows that telling her is the right thing to do, but his heart is on the defensive, doing everything it can to prevent him from doing something that will inevitably cause him pain.

And he’s well aware of how selfish that is.

But people do stupid things when they’re scared.

“Alright…” he mutters in a low voice, slow and unsure.

She doesn’t say anything right away. Instead she keeps looking down at her lap as if she’s struggling to find the right words.

Finally she glances up at him. “I had another memory return a few days ago, the day I got my stitches removed, and in it you asked me out.”

 She pauses, watching him intently and giving him a chance to interject, but he’s at a complete loss for words. Sure that whatever she’s going to say next will shatter everything.

But he has no one to blame but himself.

“And then there’s this _thing_ between us,” she continues, gesturing vaguely from her chest to his. “And then sometimes I catch you looking at me with this warmth in your eyes, and other times its gone and there’s just this sadness and—damn it I don’t—I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Killian’s heart riots against his ribcage as she breathes and looks down at her hands. Because this is it, and when she finds out he’s sure she’ll run again, and he guesses he should just be grateful he got more time with her then he was ever supposed to.

Blowing out a sharp puff of air, Emma looks up again. “Then there’s the fact that I just can’t seem to stop thinking about you. And there’s this feeling in my chest that fills me until I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m around you.”

She stops again, licking her lips. And suddenly Killian’s not so sure what she’s going to ask—his heart racing for an entirely different reason when she scoots closer to him and lifts her lashes to study him.

“Killian,” she whispers low and soft. “Are you in love with me?”

The air rushes from his lungs and any coherent thought he might have had flees. He can’t do anything but gape at her.

But she sits there waiting for him to answer. Her wide eyes revealing just how exposed and vulnerable she feels at the moment.

But the thing is her question leaves him feeling just as raw.

 He breathes slowly for a moment, trying to compose himself. Because any way he answers is going to leave his heart open and lying on the table, just waiting for her to either take it and heal it, or crush it further than it already has been.

Yet despite this he can’t bring himself to lie to her.

He doesn’t know if he quite has control over the words that leave him next.  

“I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you,” he breathes, and it’s like a wall inside him bursts. The words he’s been harboring somewhere deep in his chest flooding forward as he finally allows himself to say it. “I love you still, Emma. I don’t think I could ever stop.”

Water gathers in her eyes as her lips part, her breathing shaking as she soaks in what he just said. And he can’t help but stare at her, captivated by the flecks of gold in her eyes and the light freckles across her nose.  

It feels like an eternity later when she finally speaks again. “And did I love you?”

This question is somehow softer than her first, as if she’s scared of what the answer will be.

He has to resist the urge to close his eyes, because this question brings an ache to his chest unlike any other. And when he lifts a hand to tuck a bit of her hair behind her ear it’s with a sad smile.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, his voice low and thick. “There was a time where I was certain you did.”

She’s quiet as she absorbs this, and Killian would give anything to know the thoughts that must be racing through her head.

But before he’s quite aware of what’s happening, Emma is leaning towards him, her face tilted upwards. Her lips just barely skimming his when his brain finally catches up with what’s happening. It takes everything inside him to lean back, away from her searching lips.

“Emma…” he groans, cursing his bloody, stupid, sense of honor.

She stops leaning forward, only to shift closer to him. And all this does is give him even easier access to her lips.

And bloody hell he wants to kiss her.

“Emma, I can’t—”

“Shhhh,” she quiets him, her fingers tentatively tracing up his arms. “I _want_ you to kiss me.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Killian tips his head towards the heavens and groans again, praying for any sort of strength.

“Hey,” Emma soothes, her hands gently cupping his face and tipping his head back down. He opens his eyes and wonders if she can see how torn he feels inside. “I know something is holding you back,” she whispers, her hands trailing from his face to his neck. “But I want this. I don’t know what happened between us before, and I don’t care. All I care about his right here and right now.”  

Her words strike something inside him. He exhales a shaky breath and finds himself just a little lost in the softness of her gaze. He’s scared to death of the hope he feels in his chest, but she’s _here_ and maybe for just a moment she can be his again.

And perhaps everything will fall apart tomorrow, but he can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

So this time when she leans forward, he doesn’t stop her.

And oh how he’s missed her lips.

It’s hesitant and shy at first, their lips almost shaking with how softly they trace against each other. But soon enough the uncertainty between them vanishes and Emma is pressing herself against him as she kisses him harder.

He’d nearly forgotten how her kisses could make the rest of the world fall away. How the movements of her lips could be comforting in ways that words would never be. How they could heal him and set him on fire all at once.

They exhale in unison before he surges back in and kisses her deeper. The hungry tug of her lips against his causing him to groan low in the back of his throat. She wraps her arms around his neck and cards her fingers through his hair just as he runs his fingers down her spine, delighting in the little sigh the action elicits from her.

He pulls her closer until there’s no space between them and he can feel the rapid beating of her heart against his chest.

He’s missed this.

Missed the feel of her against him. Missed the taste of her lips and the smell of her skin.

But more simply he’s just missed _her._

They kiss a little longer, their lips slowing as they run out of breath. When they do finally break apart, Killian presses his forehead to hers and reaches up to rest his hand below her ear, using his thumb to stroke her cheek.

Breathing heavy, he watches as Emma smiles and traces his lower lip lightly with the tip of her finger.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she laughs breathless.

Killian tips his chin up and kisses her again, soft and tender.

“Not nearly as long as I have, love. Believe me.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that full italic sections are memories, also know that not every memory is going to be addressed/acknowledged by Emma in present time. But know that they are things she's remembering and is therefore directly affected what she's thinking, how she's feeling, her decisions, who she is in general etc. As always thank you so much for reading! I love hearing what you think!

_“This is silly,” Emma laughs as she walks backwards. Killian stands in front of her, his hands on her shoulders as he leads her through some nonexistent forest path. He’d been excited about this surprise all day, which is why she’d eagerly played along when he asked her to turn around. “Why can’t I just close my eyes?”_

_“Because you’ll peek,” he smirks, his eyes alight with playfulness._

_Emma’s mouth drops open as she pretends to be affronted. “I will not!”_

_Killian’s eyebrow arches high as if to say he knows better, and she rolls her eyes a little, loving every second of this little game of theirs. “Fine…I might. But what about a blindfold? That’s got to be easier than what we’re doing now.”_

_Killian shakes his head chuckling. “You’d find a way to look.”_

_“You just think doing it this way is more amusing.”_

_He smirks again. “Perhaps.”_

_Emma huffs just as she loses her footing on a free branch. She stumbles a little, and instinctively looks back to try and catch herself. But Killian tightens his grip on her and holds her upright._

_“No looking,” Killian chastises teasingly and Emma whips her head back to look at him._

_“I was falling!”_

_“Such little faith in me,” Killian says with a shake of his head. “As if I would ever let you fall.”_

_Emma laughs happily, reaching up to brush a bit of his hair back. She loves when he gets like this, loves how playful he gets every time he’s trying to surprise her._

_“You’re ridiculous sometimes.” Her tone is filled with nothing but affection, and its mirrored back in the way his eyes soften and his lips tip up in a gentle smile._

_“I know,” he hums as he leans forward and brushes his nose against hers. Emma can’t help but sigh, her eyes closing as he presses a quick kiss to her lips._

_He lingers with his forehead pressed to hers for a second longer before he straightens his spine and clears his throat. He tries to give her a serious look but all it does is make Emma bite her lip as she tries to keep from giggling again._

_“Now, no more looking, Swan. You’ll ruin the surprise.”_

_She can’t help the grin that spreads across her face. “Kiss me again and I promise not to look.”_

_Killian more than happily obliges, leaning into her and capturing her lips with his. Emma hums and rises up on her toes, pressing further into him and deepening the kiss._

_She falls back on her heels with a content hum and opens her eyes to find him staring down at her with bright eyes and wind tousled hair—and oh, how this man can do things to her heart._

_It’s unfair really, considering all he’s doing is guiding her down some unknown forest path._

_They’d driven a little over an hour out of the city to spend the late afternoon hiking. The drive had almost been as nice as the hike. But nothing could beat the expanse of lush green trees around them, or the brisk air against their cheeks. And the only thing better than the fresh scent of pine and oak was the feel of Killian’s hand in hers._

_But forty or so minutes into their trek Killian had insisted she turn around and let him lead her the rest of the way. Not that she’d been surprised, she always knows when he’s up to something—his excited smiles and attempts at nonchalance easy enough to read._

_In all reality she only spends a few minutes walking backwards. They’d left the hiking trail behind, entering a maze of tall trees, and were now just far enough out to be alone should someone else come walking by, but still close enough that they could easily find the trail again when they needed to._

_Emma has no idea where they’re going and a small part of her wonders if Killian actually knows either. But eventually her doubts are put to rest when they pass a noticeable tree line and enter a small clearing._

_Killian grants her a boyish grin before he spins her around and waits as she soaks everything in._

_She can’t stop the tiny gasp that escapes her._

_The clearing is small, but filled with lush grass that sways in the breeze like a small sea of green. It looks soft enough to lie in, and deep enough that you’d disappear if you did. A small creek flows off to the left and the song of water trickling past is delicate and peaceful._

_In the middle of the grass lays a large blanket, she recognizes it as the one he always has in the back of his trunk, accompanied by a couple of giant pillows, a picnic basket, and several candles locked away in mason jars just waiting to be lit._

_“Killian—” she breathes a little dazed._

_“Do you like it?”_

_She turns to find him watching her, and the depth and warmth she finds in his blue eyes never fails to leave her breathless. “When did you do all of this?”_

_“I may have skipped out on work this morning to come and set everything up.”_

_She beams at that. Most days she feels like she doesn’t deserve this wonderful man, and today is no different._

_“I love it.” she breathes as she folds her arms around his neck and presses herself against him. His arms instantly wrap around her waist and they sway together for a moment. “What’s the special occasion?”_

_His hand smooths up and down her spine in a warm path that has her melting just a little further into him. “I don’t need an occasion to do something special for you.”_

_She gazes at him a little speechless. She has no idea how he does this. How everything he does, everything about him, seems to just knit up her heart and heal every ache and every lonely night she’s ever experienced._

_But he does._

_And sometimes she’s not sure how her heart can hold everything she feels for him without being in danger of completely bursting._

_What she is in danger of though, is becoming completely overwhelmed, and she’s not sure she could explain even happy tears right now. So with no more words to say, she surges forward and kisses him._

_There’s desperation in the way her lips meet his, in the way her hands tangle in his hair. As though his lips are the anchor that keeps her from drifting, and doing anything other than kissing him in that moment is something completely unbearable._

_Killian grunts a little in surprise at the intensity of her kiss, but it doesn’t take him long to melt into her and meet her with just as much fervor._

_Eventually, when the need for air surpasses her need for his lips, she breaks away, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breathes.  Killian doesn’t miss a beat though, moving his lips to her neck and trailing up to the spot behind her ear that has her eyes fluttering shut._

_“I think,” he whispers, his voice low and rough, and his nose still buried deep in her hair. “Your reaction to things like this is why I love surprising you.”_

_She swats at his chest half-heartedly and leans away to meet his eyes. “What does that mean?”_

_“All it means,” he chuckles as he brushes a bit of her hair back and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Is that I simply love kissing you.”_

_Emma cants her head to the side and smiles as she runs her hands up to rest on his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing that I also love kissing you.”_

_“Hmmm, indeed,” he hums as he drops his arms from her waist, only to thread his fingers with hers as he begins pulling her towards the blanket. “Now shall we have lunch? Because our hike has left me famished.”_

_They spend next couple of hours just enjoying each other, and too soon the sun is arching towards the ground, its light growing a warmer shade of orange even as the sky grows darker._

_They should probably begin heading back to the car, but Emma’s way to preoccupied with the way Killian hovers above her, pressing her into the woven blanket as he kisses her again._

_She’s too caught up in the warmth of the sunset in her hair and the fire of Killian’s fingers at her ribcage to care about any encroaching darkness._

_Killian leans over her as his lips take their time exploring the line of her jaw. And Emma’s helpless to the way her eyes drift shut as she gets lost in the feel of it. “Thank you for today,” she sighs, biting at her lip when Killian nips at her earlobe playfully._

_He pulls away from her, but only slightly, his face still suspended inches from hers. He studies her for a moment, his eyes drinking her in just as much as his lips had been only moments ago._

_“Have I told you I love you?” he whispers_

_Emma can’t help but smile as she reaches up to run her fingers through his hair. “Not since this morning.”_

_“Unforgivable.” He shakes his head as though this is a grievous injustice. “I will tell you—”he kisses her forehead. “Every hour—” he kisses the tip of her nose. “Of every day.” He kisses her lips again and Emma can feel the grin that spreads across his face. She pulls him closer, kissing him deeper until she pushes him back and rolls them over so she’s resting atop his chest._

_“You already do,” she murmurs as she lingers against his lips. “Everything you do lets me know how much you love me.”_

_He blinks at her as if awestruck and she feels heat rise to her cheeks. She’s not usually one for pretty words but she surprises even herself sometimes._

_Suddenly shy, Emma looks away, only to be pulled back to his gaze when she feels his thumb lightly press at the dimple in her chin._

_“I love you, Emma Swan,” he breathes, and the look in his eyes is complete tenderness and adoration._

_And as her eyes lock with his, her breath catches as neither of them look away, and she swears the moment is as infinite as the space between the stars. She could live in it forever—never growing tired of watching the shades of blue in his eyes shift with the fading light._

_It’s hard to explain the way her heart seems to expand to consume the entirety of her chest, simultaneously stealing her breath and filling her with warmth. But Killian seems to sense it, his face softening into a smile right before he tugs her down and kisses her again._

* * *

Emma becomes aware of the brightness of her room well before she fully awakens and opens her eyes. But when her lids finally do flutter open, it’s only for them to immediately squeeze shut as she groans and rolls over onto her stomach. Burrowing in her mountain of pillows and blankets is always a better answer than greeting the early hours of the morning.

She drifts off into some half-sleep land before her ever increasing stream of thoughts finally entices her to stay awake. And as she flips over onto her back and stares up at the whirling ceiling fan, the one thought that had kept her up for hours the night before whisks its way back into her mind.

_Killian said he loves her_.

Somehow she’s known it for a while, has _felt_ it for a while, but hearing him say it had been a near overwhelming, and yet somehow comforting, experience. It was as though something had finally clicked in place inside her, as if she’d finally made it home after weeks away.

It just felt… _right._

He loves her.

Not only that, but he’d _kissed_ her.

Her fingertips trace her lips, and she stares off a little dazed as she relives the way his lips had felt against hers. She’d imagined kissing him well over enough times in the past couple of weeks, but nothing could prepare her for the actuality of it.

A small, silly part of her had hoped that maybe kissing him would bring back _all_ of her memories—like some curse-shattering fairytale, or romance movie kiss.

It hadn’t, but she closes her eyes as she remembers just how wonderful the kiss had been, memory triggering or not.

A ridiculous grin stretches across her face as she pushes herself out of her bed and makes her way to the bathroom. Glancing in the mirror, she notes that her hair is as messy as it always is in the morning, but even she’ll admit that her eyes look a little brighter and her cheeks a little rosier, and as she turns on the shower she has to bite her lip against an irrepressible giggle of happiness.

* * *

Her hair is still wet when she finally wanders out into the main area of the apartment, and though she’s used to how quiet it is on mornings when Killian leaves early for work, she can’t help but be disappointed when she sees his coffee mug already in the sink.  

She stares at it for a solid ten seconds as doubt begins to wiggle its way into her thoughts, and even though she tries not to, she finds herself wondering if he regrets last night.

It didn’t _seem_ like he did—especially not after they got to the whole kissing part—but she knows he must have reasons to be cautious.  After all, he’d admitted that he wasn’t sure if she had loved him. And she knows her scarred and broken self well enough to figure she must have done something to make him feel that way.

She knows there’s a whole history behind them, and though somedays she wishes he would tell her, part of her is scared to find out exactly what happened between them.  

She’d told him the here and now is what she wants, and she meant it.

So with a sigh she tries to infuse positivity into her thoughts, telling herself that an early day at work really is the only reason she’s not greeted by his sleep-mussed hair and lazy smiles.

But try as she might to distract herself, she spends the whole day thinking about him, and worrying about the fact that, for all intents and purposes, it looks like he’s ran off.

Maybe it’s the years of repeated abandonments that has her paranoid, but as the hours drag on; her anxiety begins to eat away at the happiness she’d woken up with, until hardly even a sliver of it remains.

So when her phone buzzes with a text from Elsa, it’s with tangible relief that she reads it.

_Elsa: Hey Emma! Do you have plans for the day? I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me?_

Emma releases a weary puff of air as her thumbs type away a response. Getting out of this apartment is exactly what she needs. _Something_ needs to distract her from her treacherous thoughts.

_Emma: I’d love to, where do you want to meet?_

_Elsa: I’ll come pick you up. Say half an hour?_

Emma smiles, already on her way to finish getting ready.

_Emma: Sounds perfect._

* * *

She lets Elsa pick where they eat, and they end up going to a quaint little café where the stools are a little rickety and the paint a little chipped, but the music is soft and the natural light that streams through the floor to ceiling windows is serene.  

It’s a bustling little place, the constant flow of chairs being moved, orders being placed, and indistinguishable conversations keeps the place alive with an odd cacophony of sound. But it’s not so loud that it impedes upon a private conversation.

Emma does her best to keep things lighthearted—but _lighthearted_ isn’t exactly her natural tendency when things are bothering her. Instinct has a way of throwing her walls up, and sullen and distant is probably a better way to describe her current state of being.

Elsa, as astute as she is, catches on immediately. She’s been side eyeing Emma since the moment she hopped in the blonde’s car.

But she doesn’t pry—in fact they make it all the way to the café, and half way through their meal before Elsa even tries to bring it up.

“You seem…quiet,” Elsa muses, folding her hands in her lap and eyeing Emma expectantly.

Emma sinks back against the cold steel of her chair and sighs, she figured she wouldn’t be able to get out of this lunch without the conversation steering this way. But still, she waits a moment before responding, pursing her lips as she thinks about what to say.

“How much do you know about me and Killian?”

Elsa’s eyes widen ever so slightly, taken aback by the abruptness of her question. “Not much…Liam and I only started dating a couple of months ago, and at the time you weren’t…here.” She hesitates, her fingers reaching up to play with the end of her braid before she continues. “I knew Killian was having a hard time with something, but I never knew what. I’ve asked Liam about…you and him…but he’s stayed pretty mute on the whole thing. Always grumbling moodily about how it’s Killian’s business.”

Elsa’s eyes drop to the table in front of her as she finishes, as if she’s aware the topic they’re delving into may be sensitive.  

Emma, on the other hand, drops her head dramatically into her hands and groans. None of Elsa’s information is new to her, not really. Emma has deduced this much on her own.

She takes a minute to hide in her hands before she straightens up and combs her fingers through her hair. “I’ve only remembered bits and pieces of things, but from what I do remember Killian and I are together…or _we were._ Something happened though, and I’m pretty sure I disappeared, or ran off, or did something equally as stupid.”

“How do you know it was you?” Elsa asks. “Maybe it was a mutual decision, or maybe it was Killian?”

Emma shakes her head. “It wasn’t Killian.”

“But if you don’t remember—”

“I asked him, last night, if he loved me,” Emma plays with her straw, avoiding Elsa’s gaze. “He said he did, but when I asked him if I loved him he said he didn’t know. More specifically he said there was a time he was certain I did…but not anymore.”

Elsa’s slender fingers are suddenly around hers and Emma looks up to find a sympathetic smile on her friend’s lips. She exhales audibly before trying to smile back, only to scrunch her forehead and frown instead.

“Which just makes me even more confused because from what I do remember, I was pretty damned infatuated with him.”

She’s pretty sure she loved him, actually, but she’s not quite ready to say _that._

“And he’s just so sad and hesitant …and I’m just broken enough to do something stupid like run out on a man who loved me. It’s the only explanation I can think of that makes sense.”

Elsa’s eyebrow jumps up in slight surprise, but Emma sighs and continues before Elsa can express whatever it is she’s thinking.

“I don’t have any family. No parents, no…anything. I spent majority of my life alone, until I met this guy named Neal, and—” Emma inhales a shaky breath as water gathers in her eyes, and suddenly she’s feels as though she’s sharing too much. Her feelings have a way of crawling up her throat, and she chokes on the need to keep things to herself. “I guess you can say he messed me up pretty bad, and I’ve had a hard time… staying anywhere, or with anyone ever since.”

“Oh Emma,” Elsa breathes, squeezing her fingers.

Emma withdraws her hand, using it to wipe at her eyes as she shrugs and tries to laugh at herself to brush it off. “It’s fine, really. But I just have this feeling that whatever happened between Killian and I, whatever separated us, was my mistake.”

“Have you tried asking him?”

“Part of me is scared to,” Emma admits. Though terrified is probably more accurate. She’s worried she’ll ruin something before she even gets a chance to experience it. “Besides, I figure I’ll remember soon enough, and I just want to move on and not live in my past. I mean what if I never remember? How miserable is it to live my life based on a mistake I don’t even remember making? And I know it’s a bigger jump for Killian, but if he’s ready...”

She trails of shrugging again. All she knows is that she’s ready to surrender to whatever this is between them if he is.

“And what _does_ Killian think of all this?”

Emma can’t help the tiny smile on her lips. “Well we did kiss last night, but he wasn’t here this morning so I don’t really know.”

Elsa hums before a smile starts to stretch across her face. “Have you ever considered that maybe Killian’s trying not to push _you_ further than you’re willing to go?”

Emma’s mouth falls open slightly as she gapes at Elsa trying to decipher what she means.

“Think about it,” Elsa continues. “He told you he still loves you, but he’s not sure if you love him. To me that sounds like someone who’s already ready to go there with you.”

“I think it’s more complicated than that,” Emma says shaking her head.

“Maybe it is,” Elsa allows. “So maybe you just need to make it less complicated.”

Emma scrunches her forehead. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know,” Elsa shrugs, her voice almost wistful, and Emma’s pretty sure that beneath Elsa’s quiet composure rests a hopeless romantic. “Maybe you just need to be the one to initiate things. Because Killian’s a man that would wait forever if he thought you weren’t ready.”  

Emma opens her mouth to respond, only to close it right away as she considers what Elsa’s saying. And maybe she’s on to something, maybe she needs to be the one to open the door so to speak.

And as she muses everything over, an idea begins to take root in her thoughts. Causing an excited smile to spread across her face as the happiness she’d felt earlier that morning returns.  

“I need you to drive me to the docks.”  

-CS-

Killian leans back in his chair staring up at the wood panel ceiling of his office as he tries not to think of the fact that he’d given in and kissed Emma the night before.

He doesn’t regret it, not really. In fact, he’s done nothing but blissfully relive it since the minute he woke up. And now that he has kissed her again, he’s not sure if he’ll ever get the feel of her hair between his fingers, or the pull of her lips against his from out of his head.

He is frustrated with himself though, because even though he told Emma he loves her, he’s still very far from telling her everything.

“Tell me, Jones, what is so bloody fascinating about the ceiling? You’ve been staring at it for nigh on thirty minutes.”

Will’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and Killian starts as he sits up in his chair and looks across the room at his business partner. Will Scarlet has this way of wiggling his eyebrows at him when he’s waiting for an answer and it’s nothing short of absolutely infuriating.

“Shove off, Will.” Killian mumbles as he swivels in his chair and begins to boot up his laptop.

“Ah, it’s Emma.” Will nods as if everything suddenly makes sense.

Killian grumbles obscenities under his breath before he says louder, “Not everything has to do with Emma.”

“Anything with you lately has to do with Emma,” Will corrects. “Now tell me, what woes are we dealing with today?”

“Drop it, Scarlet,” Killian warns through his teeth. It’s days like today that he wonders why he puts up with the man.

“Maybe you should just kiss her; I think that would solve all your problems.”

Killian’s back muscles tighten, and he clenches his jaws just as he feels his skin heating up.

“You have kissed her!” Will spins in his chair as if he himself is responsible for this happy news.

Killian rubs his fingertips against his temple, trying to stave off the headache he knows is coming. “I’m serious, Will. If you don’t leave it be I’m going to—”

A sudden knock cuts him off, and both men’s attention whips to the door just as it creaks open. The light from outside pours in, and at first nothing but a dark silhouette is visible as the visitor steps inside.

But even before his eyes finish adjusting; Killian knows that it’s Emma.

His insides jump a little in response to seeing her. He crossed a line he’d set for himself last night, but he wouldn’t take it back. But if he thought he had a hard time keeping his emotions about her in check before, it’s near impossible now that he’s kissed her after months of trying to remember what her lips felt like.

It intensified things for him. Everything inside him is fresh, and raw, and entirely exposed. Especially now that she knows how he feels about her—how he’s always felt about her.

He watches as her eyes drift around the room, landing briefly on Will before they shift and lock with his.

“Hey,” she whispers in greeting.

He inhales as he collects himself a bit, trying his best to ignore the mocking googly-eyes Will is making behind Emma’s back. “Hi.”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” she asks, turning to look at Will who shoots her a grin that is nothing short of wolfish.  

Nerves vibrate with a violent flurry in his stomach and he attempts to silence them as he answers. “Aye, of course. Maybe outside would be better?”

He pushes himself out of his chair and tries to keep his hand from shaking as he places it at her back and walks with her outside. An obvious whistle follows them out, and Killian wishes for all the world that he could kick Will in the shins.

He leads her around the corner of the small building, and both keep silent as they stand only inches from each other. Killian waits, wondering what she would want to talk about that would bring her all the way to the harbor. He could guess at a few things, and every answer reignites the nerves fluttering inside his stomach.  

She looks anywhere but at him, bouncing on her toes as though she too is nervous.

He runs an encouraging hand down her arm and dips his head lower as he tries to get her to look at him. “What is it, love?”

She hesitates, licking her lips as she tucks her wind-blown hair behind her ears and finally lifts her gaze to meet his. “Well, I’ve been thinking about what you said last night and about…everything else.” She swallows, looking out at the ocean for a brief second before returning her attention to him and all but blurting out the next bit. “And I’m here to ask you out.”

Killian blinks, just a little dazed. Of everything she could have said, this was probably one of the last things he was expecting.

And maybe it was the kiss, or maybe it was the way she’d told him she wanted to focus on the here and now, but for once he doesn’t feel the crippling fear that comes with trying to make the right choice.

All he can think about, as he soaks in the way her jade eyes gaze wide with anticipation and just a hint of fear, is how much he loves this woman.

And who is he to deny her, when she stands in front of him with a literal second chance held out to him with open palms.

Because maybe that is exactly what this is—for both of them.

A second chance.

And when he looks at it that way, he’s helpless to the way his heart beats a little faster and his stomach begins to flip.

He reaches out, and when his fingers find hers, he pulls her closer until their foreheads bump together.

“One condition,” he whispers. “You let me plan the evening.”

He can feel her beaming as much as he can see it. Her happiness radiates out of her and seeps into his skin until it wraps itself in tight folds around his heart.

And bloody hell, he shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy.

“Okay,” she nods, biting her bottom lip as if it will somehow keep her smile from growing.

“Meet you at the apartment at six?”

She presses up on her toes and presses the lightest of kisses against his lips. “Don’t be late.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter took longer than usual, but life was insane for a bit. Thanks for being patient and I hope it was worth the wait. I love every ounce of love you guys give this story. As always full italics are memories

The number six on his front door is just slightly crooked. He’s never noticed it, but then again Killian’s never had a reason to stare at his front door for such a prolonged period of time before. Until today he’d never noticed the slightly chipped paint in the bottom right corner, or how the dark stain of the wood is fading around the edges.

His door is daunting, he decides as he stands in front of it and runs a nervous hand through his hair. The roses in his hand crinkle slightly as he shifts a bit on his feet, his grip around their stems tightening as he holds his breath for a moment before releasing it in one hard gust of air.

He’d debated on whether or not to just walk in—it is his house after all—but after much, and more than likely unnecessary, internal struggle he’d decided to stay outside and knock.

And he probably is putting too much thought into this, but he figures he should pick her up like any gentleman should for a first date…though this isn’t really a _first_ date.

But in a way it kind of is, at least to her.

And it might as well be for him, considering what a mess he is at the moment.

If someone had told him, back when all of this started and he was sitting in a hospital chair terrified out of his mind, that a little over a month and a half later he’d be standing outside his front door with a bouquet of roses in his hand about to go on a second “first” date with Emma Swan he would have laughed in their face.

Impossible is what he would have told them.

But here he is, trying to muster up the courage to knock on his own front door.

Nerves twirl and dance in his stomach and he swallows thickly in the hopes of settling them. But it does nothing, and he’s pretty sure his heart is beating so fast he can hear it hammering away in his ears.

He breathes in deep, his chest expanding as he tries to remind himself that _she_ asked him out, and that he’s no stranger when it comes to knowing what to expect when dating Emma Swan.

But still, there’s a slight shake in his hand when he lifts it and pounds it a few times against the door.

It feels like hardly a second passes before the door swings open and the light of his apartment is flooding the hallway.

His eyes flit up and it’s like the air inside of him suddenly rushes out, and he’s unable to draw anymore in as he does nothing more than gape at her.

She’s lovely. Her hair falls in gentle waves past her shoulders and down her back, while dark jeans and a soft, cream sweater wrap around her small figure. Her sweater’s rounded neckline reveals just the tiniest hint of her collar bones, and its tantalizing in ways he can’t fully explain.

“Hi,” he breathes, the word a hoarse whisper at best.   

A delightful blush fills her cheeks at his greeting, and it’s just then that Killian realizes she’d been gaping at him just as speechless.

“You look stunning, Swan,” he continues, finally stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him.

She stares at him a second longer, licking her lips before giving her head an almost imperceptible shake as she seems to recollect her scattered thoughts. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

His lips tip in a slight smile and his eyebrow arches playfully at the compliment before he seems to remember the roses in his hand. He lifts them in one quick motion and offers them to her. “These are for you.”

Her eyes light up as she takes them, a bright smile gracing her lips as she lifts the flowers and buries her nose in them. Her eyes close briefly as she inhales, her long lashes brushing her cheekbones.

And bloody hell, she’s beautiful.

“Thank you.” She beams up at him, lowering the flowers.

Killian scratches behind his ear and shrugs one shoulder in lieu of a response, but try as he might to seem casual, his stomach is still somersaulting and his heart is still trying to fly from his chest.

It’s not hard for him to realize that he’s quickly tumbling downhill when it comes to tangling his feelings with hers. Ever since he kissed her the other night his intentions of keeping her at a distance—to help her heal and then move on—are rapidly coming undone.

It’s impossible for him to be around her and not be completely and utterly in love with her.

But loving her has always been the easy part. Loving her is what is puts his world in balance, it’s easy. It’s natural.  It’s the losing her part that is hard and complicated.

And maybe he’s a fool, but he can’t help but hope that maybe this time he won’t have to.

“We should put these in a vase.”

Her words jerk him from his thoughts and, realizing he’s staring again, Killian swallows and blinks hard a few times in an effort to pull himself together. “Aye, we should.” He clears his throat and indicates in the direction just behind her. “There are vases in the kitchen.”

She gives a small nod before twirling on the balls of her feet, her hair swinging as she pivots and heads towards the kitchen. He follows after her, only passing her so he can rummage in a cabinet, dishware clinking together until he finds what he’s looking for.

With a vase in hand he straightens and heads for the sink. For a moment the only sound between them is the water rushing from the faucet and the snap of Emma cutting the ends of the stems off the roses with a pair of scissors.

Turning off the water, he makes his way to stand behind her, reaching around and placing the vase on the counter. Emma sets the roses inside, arranging them for a moment with a tilt of her head.

“There,” she breathes as she finishes positioning one of the roses.

“Looks lovely,” he smiles as Emma turns towards him. Their chests are only inches apart, and Killian could count the gold specks sparkling in her green eyes she’s so close.

She rises ever so slightly, as if she means to kiss him, and Killian can’t help but smirk as he runs a hand down her arm and threads his fingers with hers. If he starts kissing her now he’s not sure he’ll have the strength to leave the apartment. And he really wants to go on this date with her. “We should get going. I have quite the evening planned for you, Swan.”

She hums as she lowers herself and threads their fingers together, taking the initiative to tug him towards the front door, a breathtaking smile on her lips. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

“Our date is at the docks?”

Her question is curious and he can hear the smile in her tone even if the night sky prevents him from seeing it properly.

“A little more specific than the docks,” he answers in turn, thoroughly enjoying himself. It’s amazing, how natural it feels to walk down the harbor with her hand in his, and the rhythm of the ocean’s swells beside them. Almost as if the last few months without her never happened.

And the way she’s tucked herself into his side in an effort to shield herself from the bite of the cold air isn’t helping matters. The nerves on the entire right side of his body are alive and burning, acutely aware of every inch of her that’s pressed against him.

“Alright, Emma,” he says in a low voice when they reach their destination. “I’d like to introduce you to my beloved ship, the _Jolly Roger_.” He gestures up towards his ship. He’d purposefully left the sails at full mast for the evening, and he’s not disappointed by the definite look of awe on Emma’s face as she stares up at the traditional sailing ship.

She gapes at it a little longer, her eyes drinking in every inch of it before she whips her head to look back at him. “Is it really yours?” There’s a sense of wonder in her tone that has Killian beaming.

“Aye, she is. Took quite a bit of savings to get her, but I’d dreamt of having a ship just like her since I was a lad. We use her in some of the historical tours, so over the years she’s earned me my money back and then some.”

Emma arches her brow, a bit of a smirk in her eyes as she considers the ship. “And what do your patrons think about taking a tour of the Boston harbor in a pirate ship?”

Killian laughs. “Ah, well we might keep her true name under wraps on tours for the sake of appearances.”

“Clever,” Emma laughs, and Killian smiles with her for a moment before gesturing up at the gangplank.

“Would you like to come aboard?”

She nods, and Killian places a hand at her back and leads her forward, letting her walk up the gangplank and onto the ship before him, his chest constricting as he waits for her to see what he’s set up in the middle of the deck.

She comes to a halt rather suddenly, and Killian bites at his lips as he waits.

“Killian…”

Her tone is breathless and quiet, and his name is all she can seem to get out.

Still nervous, Killian steps up behind her and leans forward until his lips are next to her ear. “What do you think?”

She startles slightly, before turning to him with wide eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

In the middle of the deck he’d set up a small table and a couple of chairs. He hadn’t had a lot of time but he’d managed to gather some candles to light their evening, and to try and give the table at least _some_ measure of romance. It isn’t much, but her reaction is more than enough to warm his heart.

He smiles at her before taking her hand and gently leading her to the table and pulling out a chair for her. She sits gracefully, tucking her hair behind her ears before scooting herself a little closer to the table.

Joining her on the other side, Killian begins removing the dishes he has set up on warmers, placing the lids on the ground beside him, and then arranging the various pans on the table in front of him.

Emma eyes it all for a moment before she raises her eyebrows. “Italian?” There’s an impressed lift in her voice that makes him chuckle lowly.

“I didn’t make it,” he admits. “I picked it up from a little restaurant we went to on our first date. Thought it might trigger some memories for you.”

“Oh.”

He barely hears it, that one, tiny _oh_ is more of a breath than anything. But when he locks his eyes with hers, he doesn’t miss the water glistening in them. She inhales, and he swears her chest shakes slightly, before she blinks the water away and tips her lips upward. And he doesn’t miss the way she tucks the moment of emotion away and out of sight.

“Well I love Italian food,” she says as she reaches forward for one of the breadsticks and places it on her plate.

He follows her lead and grabs a breadstick of his own, meeting her gaze with a smile. “I know.”

They eat, and they talk, and they laugh, and as the night wears on it becomes more and more apparent to Killian just how far gone he is in all of this. There’s no way he can untangle himself from this situation and walk away unscathed. And this, allowing himself to get involved with Emma again, is either going to end up devastating him or it’s going to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

And again, maybe he’s a fool, but he can’t help but feel like it’s going to be the latter.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he doesn’t think he’s imagining the softness in Emma’s eyes when she looks at him. It’s like every day her gaze seems just a little more knowing, and he often wonders if she’s remembering more than she’s letting on.

He _sees_ love in her eyes.

And he knows he’s not imagining it because he’s seen it before, he’s _had_ it before.

He’s in this too deep now, and there’s nothing he can do about it. But he should’ve known that there was no way he could be in Emma’s life without being entirely in love with her.

_Liam’s going to kill him when he finds out._

-CS-

Emma rests her forearms on the railing and stares down at the dark water below. There’s just enough light from the glow of the city that she can watch the water rise and fall in little waves. It’s quiet. And when she lifts her gaze and sees nothing but sky and sea it’s like the city is an entire world away.

She turns her head to watch Killian. He’s next to her, leaning with his back to the railing and his head tipped up towards the sky. The wind plays with his hair as he inhales deeply and closes his eyes, a peaceful smile on his lips.

“I can see why you like it out here.” Her voice is just a whisper, quieter than the wind around them, but Killian hears. His eyes open and his gaze drifts down to meet hers. “It’s quiet,” she continues, “and peaceful.”

He watches her for a moment before pushing himself off the railing only to turn around and match her, placing his forearms on the railing and looking out at the water.

“Aye, it is.” He pauses, and then shifts his focus to her face. “It’s one of the reasons you loved coming out here so much.”

“Did we come here a lot?” she asks, taking her arms off the railing and shifting so her body his facing his. She wants nothing more to take a step forward, close the small distance between them, but she doesn’t.

Killian’s eyes soften as a small smile breaks across his face and he lifts a hand to tuck an errant hair behind her ear, trailing his thumb down the side of her face as he finishes. “We did.”

“Well,” she prompts wanting to know more, a smile of her own forming. “What would we do?”

He breathes in an exaggerated breath, his chest rising and falling visibly. 

“We’d go sailing, alone, or sometimes you’d come on tours with me. Sometimes we’d just leave her docked and come out here during the day and you’d paint while I got a few things done on her or the other ships. Sometimes we’d come here at night, just like this, and share dinner, or stare at the stars and spend the night. Then there was the first time I got you to dance with me, I think that was my favorite.”

She can feel her smile growing as she laughs a little. “We danced?”

“We did,” he confirms, his voice softening. “I took your hand and pulled you towards me.” He does just that, taking her hand and leading her away from the railing, pulling her into his arms and resting a hand at her waist. “And we danced, just like this. No music except the sound of the waves.”

His words fade as they begin to sway and, a little speechless, Emma stares up at him. The places where their bodies meet—the hand he’s holding, the spot on her waist where his hand rests, the every so slight touch of their chests—they all burn with a delicious warmth that spreads through her like thick liquid fire.

Normally, she’d wish she could remember the moment he’s talking about; she’d curse the amnesia for taking the memory from her. But here, as their movements seem to synchronize with the sway of the ship, she can’t help but think _this_ is better than any memory.

Eventually, she feels them shifting even closer until she’s melting into him, her head resting against his chest. She closes her eyes and breathes him in just as she feels his lips press against the top of her head.

She finds herself sighing, even as her heart begins to beat faster, an overwhelming feeling forming in her chest.

Every day she remembers him a little more, and every day she’s sure that he was wrong when he said he wasn’t sure if she loved him.

She did. She _does._

Raising her head, she meets his eyes again. “Killian, I…”

She licks her lips, meaning to say more, meaning to tell him what she’s feeling. But the look in his eyes seems to steal her words and distract her thoughts, and instead she finds herself raising on her toes and pressing her lips to his.

He inhales, breathing her in as his hand at her waist moves to tangle in her hair. And as their lips move, and his tongue slips in to meet hers, she groans, her hands fisting in his collar as she pulls him closer.

Every coherent thought and well-intended intention of mentioning feelings disappears when one of his hands falls to her hip—because damn does she love kissing him.

* * *

_“I’m so sorry, darling.”_

_She shrugs, burrowing deeper into his side and rests her hand at his chest. “You didn’t do anything.”_

_Killian shifts and tucks an arm behind his head while the other hand traces a light path up and down her arm. “Doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could take away the pain it caused you.”_

_Emma swallows in the silence that follows his declaration and stares up at the night sky. The stars blink at her, brilliant as diamonds scattered on black silk. It’s warm here—lying with Killian in their makeshift bed of pillows and blankets on the deck of the Jolly—but still, she can’t quite shake the tightness in her chest._

_She supposes it’s just what comes with having your entire life be a silent fight to try and be okay._

_She hadn’t meant to share as much as she has, not tonight, not so soon. Yet here she is, laying bare every shadow that’s ever haunted her._

_Being tossed from foster home to foster home, her complete lack of family, and the petty thievery in her youth that was really just a young girl doing her best to survive, all combine to make one pretty messed up girl who won’t admit on most days that she has an intense case of abandonment issues._

_Her life isn’t easy for her to share, but there’s a safety in Killian’s arms that somehow makes it just that..._

_Easy._

_With a deep breath she begins tracing nondescript circles on his chest as she continues on with a tale that wrenches on her heart more than most._

_“I thought I loved him. I’d never really loved anyone before and I was young and I thought—“ Her chest shudders as she sucks in a desperate breath of air. “Well it doesn’t really matter what I thought. Neal, he just had this way of spinning these bright pictures of a happy future and I ate up every word. I ended up stealing some things for him, pawning them off for some money and gathering every penny I’d ever saved to meet up at some beat up motel miles from nowhere.”_

_Traitor tears form in her eyes and she blinks them away furiously, refusing to let herself cry over this again. “It’s a long story,” she continues, “But he essentially let me know that me and my emotional baggage weren’t worth loving, and took everything and left. I was stranded in the middle of nowhere with no money and no home. At that point I knew he’d used me, but still I waited around three days to see if he’d change his mind and come back. He didn’t, and it took me a very long time to get over it.”_

_Sometimes she wonders if she’s still not over it. If there’s a scar somewhere that she thinks is healed, but is really just hiding away and keeping her from allowing someone to love her._

_It’s terrifying though, to try and let yourself fall again when you don’t really believe anyone will be there to catch you._

_Emma wipes at an escaped tear and sniffs just as Killian wraps both arms around her and pulls her even closer against him. He holds her for a minute, pressing his forehead to the side of her head, his nose skimming her cheek every so often._

_“You do not deserve the hand life has dealt you, love.” He’s so close that his words tickle against her ear. “What you deserve is to spend the rest of your life happy, and carefree, and loved in order to make up for all you’ve been through.”_

_Killian presses a kiss to her head and a pathetic smile lifts Emma’s lips. “It’s a nice thought, but I don’t think life works that way.”_

_She feels Killian sigh beneath her as he shifts and lifts and arm to point at the sky above them._

_“You see those stars right there? They’re bright and form a cross? That right there is known as the Cygnus, or the Swan. The stars that make it up are some of the brightest in that patch of constellations and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they share your name.”_

_He drops his hand back to her waist and Emma can’t help the smile that starts to fill her lips. “And why’s that?”_

_“Because you, darling Swan, are not a star that dims. Despite what you’ve been through, you haven’t let it dim your heart, or your spirt, or who you are. And it’s amazing and bloody inspiring and makes you downright beautiful.” Propping himself on his elbow, Killian hovers over her, his eyes fliting back and forth as they look into hers. “So maybe life isn’t that way, and maybe there’ll be more heartache in your path. But I know you’ll survive it, and I know that against the odds you’ll shine brighter because of it.”_

_Emma sucks in a long breath as she stares up at him. He’s completely overwhelming sometimes. It makes her heart pound and she’ll admit it scares her just a little, but the feelings stirring in her chest aren’t any quite like she’s felt before._

_Her fingers toy with his collar for a moment before they curl around it and gently pull him towards her, their lips meeting in a sweet kiss._

_Maybe she’s managed to find love after all, despite Neal and the scars he left._

* * *

The wall is solid at her back and Killian’s hands are warm at her waist as his lips nip and tug against her own.

He’d insisted on walking her to the door, arched his eyebrow as he’d quipped about her letting him end the date properly. Only it’s his apartment and they can’t really say goodbye at his front door when he’s just going to follow her inside.

So instead he’d promptly walked her down the hall and stopped outside her bedroom door, and saying goodnight had easily turned into a goodnight kiss, which had just as easily gotten a little carried away. But she’ll be the first to admit that she very much enjoys the way he has her pressed up against the hallway wall.

“I had a good time,” she finally gasps, breathless as his mouth releases hers and he presses his forehead against her own.  

The back of his finger skims the apple of her cheek, his eyes still focused on her lips. His lashes look so incredibly dark this close up.

"Aye, I did too.”

She can’t help but press her lips together as she tries to hide her smile. “Good.”

He lingers with his forehead pressed to hers for a moment, and Emma bites at her lip, seriously contemplating just tugging him the last few feet into her bedroom and getting rid of the necessity to say goodnight entirely.

But it’s almost like he senses her thoughts because he sighs—and it almost sounds more like a groan as he untangles himself from her hold and steps away.

She misses his warmth immediately, but she can’t help but smile, amused as she watches him run a clearly frustrated hand through his hair as he looks down at their feet.

It doesn’t look like she’s the only one that wouldn’t object to continuing their date in the confines of her room.

His cheeks puff out as he blows out an exasperated breath and drops his arm to his side. “I’ll see you in the morning, love. Sleep well.”

“You too,” she says as she pushes herself from the wall and makes a step towards her door.

Her hand touches the doorknob only briefly when a thought shoves its way into the front of her mind and she turns to find Killian already across the hall but not quite to his room yet.

“You were wrong, you know,” she calls after him gently.

He turns to her, confusion knitted at his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You were wrong,” she repeats as she reflects over one of her more recently returned memories. “The other day when you said you weren’t sure if I loved you…you were wrong.”

Killian’s eyes widen slightly as his lips fall open. He moves his mouth as if to say something, but the words get stuck on the way up because he only continues to gape at her.

Suddenly self-conscious, Emma looks down at her fingers as she plays with her nails. She has no idea what spurred her on to share this, but she can’t take it back now.  

She sucks in a quick breath before looking back up at him and begins to try and clarify her sudden declaration. “There was a night, out on your ship, where I shared with you the darkest parts of my life. Things that most days I forbid myself from even thinking, and you…” She pauses, shaking her head dazed as she relives it for a moment. “You pointed out the stars.”

She watches as Killian swallows, but still he doesn’t say anything.

“And I’m saying that I think that’s when I…” She stammers, scared to admit what she’s so close to admitting. Because there’s still so much she _doesn’t_ remember, and there’s still this unspoken heartache between them, but each and every day she just finds herself more and more sure of _him._ “You were wrong when you said I didn’t love you,” she repeats again, because these words are a little easier. “I-I think I did.”

Killian hasn’t moved a muscle since she started speaking, a statue stunned speechless.

Her heart could very easily race right out of her chest at the moment—she can feel it pulsing against her sternum, rapid and erratic.

But still Killian doesn’t move.

“Emma—” He chokes on her name before he stutters on air, the rest of his words lost.

She doesn’t think she’ll get much more from him tonight, and trying to appear as though she has more control over her feelings than she actually does, Emma takes a step back towards her room. “Well, good night.” She turns, closing her eyes and exhaling as she opens the door and makes her way into her room, closing the door softly behind her.

When the door is closed Emma’s forehead falls and thumps lightly against the white wood. She stays there, calming her breathing as she tries not to think about Killian , or the way he’s probably still standing out there completely stunned.  


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took soooo long. Life was getting the best of me for a little bit there. But I'm happy to be back sharing this story with you, I love whats coming up in the next few chapters. Thank you for your support and love for this story! I will do my best to make sure the next update doesn't take nearly as long.

The ceiling fan above him whirls around and around for what feels like hours, yet still Killian stares up at it as if somewhere in its spinning panels are the keys to unraveling the feelings stirring inside him.

Sleep, it would seem, is intent on avoiding him and it’s been hours since his eyes adjusted to the darkness. But he doesn’t think he’ll get any sleep this night, not with the way he can’t stop hearing Emma’s voice in his head.

_You were wrong when you said I didn’t love you._

He hears those words over and over again like the panels of the fan rotating around and around, never-ending.

_You were wrong._

He was wrong.

_When you said I didn’t love you._

She loves him.

Bloody hell, she loves him?

Puffing out a heavy breath, Killian drags a hand down his face and rubs at the scruff on his jaw. It’s hard to stop his heart from racing, speeding like an excited humming bird in his chest. It’s a feeling he can’t deny as something very close to joy.

She all but said she loves him.

He feels like laughing, disbelief and wonder filling his chest. It’s such a stark contrast to the way his heart has felt for so many months now and he’s almost unfamiliar with the sensation.

Though despite his happiness there’s still the tiniest hesitation inside him that he does is best to push down. A shadow of the pain experienced the night she left, echoes of the ache still hiding in the walls of his chest all cautioning him, reminding him to not get too ahead of himself.  

There’s still so much she doesn’t remember.

But then again, he’s seen little moments here and there that have hinted that she may actually remember more than she’s letting on.

Maybe she does remember, and maybe she’s choosing to love him anyway. 

With a sigh Killian turns on his side and stares at the shadows stretching up the wall. Last night was perfect, and if he closes his eyes he can still feel the ghost of her kiss, still feel the silk of her hair and the softness of her body against his. He can still see the look in her eyes as she whispered those words that shifted something inside him.

_You were wrong when you said I didn’t love you._

He gives his head the tiniest, disbelieving shake. No matter how many times he repeats them to himself, her words never quite sink in. They somehow feel new, and overwhelming, and breathtaking, and staggering all at once. 

He must fall asleep at some point because there’s light streaming into his room the next time he opens his eyes. With a grunt he rolls over a bit and reaches for his phone resting on his bedside table. His eyes are still half closed as he squints at the time. It’s close enough to when he normally wakes up that he doesn’t bother with rolling over and trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep. Instead he throws the blankets off him and pushes himself to sitting, scratching at his head a moment before bracing his hands on his thighs and standing.

He shuffles his way down the hall and into the kitchen, Emma’s not usually awake before him and so when he spots her blonde hair dancing against her back as she busies herself with the coffee machine his heart all but stops.

He’s not sure what to expect, and too scared to shatter the silence and make his presence known he simply stares at her. Admiring the way the light from the windows weaves into her sleep-tangled hair and glows softly on her skin.

It’s almost surreal, watching as she hums quietly to herself and grabs a couple of mugs from the cupboard. It’s been weeks but he sometimes still finds it hard to believe she’s here and she’s real. Sometimes it feels like she’s only temporary, here for a fleeting moment, like the  particles of dust that drift in a stream of sunlight only to disappear when the light leaves.

She begins to turn, the mugs held tight in her hands, and jumps in surprise the moment she sees him.

“You scared me,” she breathes as she sets the mugs on the island counter in front of her.

“Sorry, love,” he murmurs and takes a few steps into the kitchen and moves around the island to stand next to her, the tiled floor cold beneath his feet. “You’re not usually up this early.”

Emma shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

In answer he hums with all too much understanding, he’d had a similar night.

Silence settles between them and Emma stares at him for a moment. It’s nothing more significant than her eyes meeting his, but still his heart jolts.

Killian watches as Emma blinks rapidly, her lashes brushing against her cheekbones in quick succession before she tucks her hair behind her ear and breaks eye contact, gesturing behind her with her thumb. “I made us some coffee. I know you like it black but I can get the cream and sugar out if you’re in the mood for it.”

Killian opens his mouth to thank her, only to snap it shut when what she actually said dawns on him. His eyebrow arches and his lips tip up in the smallest smile as he looks down at her. “You _know_ I like it black?”

She smiles back at him, a look of bewilderment in her eyes as if she’s not so sure what’s so amusing or why she’s smiling back. “Yeah, why?”

“Was that a specific memory that came back, or…?”

Her lips round in a silent ‘oh’ of understanding, and she tilts her head as a hint of wonder fills her eyes. “I don’t think so? I….I just know you like it black?”

Unable to help himself Killian grabs a stray strand of her hair and gently runs it through his fingers. “What all do you remember, Swan?” He whispers, as if asking the question to himself.

He’s hypnotized by the way her lashes shade her cheekbones as she looks toward the floor, her teeth scraping her bottom lip as she thinks. Her small shoulders lift as she inhales deeply before lifting her gaze back to his. “I really don’t know. There’s still so much that’s…lost to me.” She pauses, and tentatively lifts her hand to trail her fingertips up his arm. “I don’t know if lost is the right word, because _lost_ implies that I know what I’m missing—and I don’t actually know what’s missing. It’s more like it’s just…not there.”

Killian takes a step closer to her, and though they’d been in much more intimate positions last night, he still feels somewhat shy as he wraps his arms around her waist. She melts into him, resting her palms on his chest, her thumb playing with the cotton of his shirt.

“It’s strange the way things come back,” she continues. “Sometimes it’s vivid pictures, and it comes in a dream or hits me when I’m awake and I feel like I’m seeing and living it all again. And when they’re back it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that I forgot it in the first place. Other times it’s subtle—small things that I don’t necessarily remember _when_ they came back. I just suddenly _know_ you like your coffee black…but I couldn’t tell you if I knew that yesterday.” She shrugs, releasing a breath of air. “I don’t even know if that makes any sense or how to better explain it but—”

“It makes sense,” he assures her, his thumb rubbing up and down her spine. “I can’t even imagine how difficult this has all been for you.”

Emma shrugs and looks down at her fingers resting on his chest. “It’s gotten easier. Every day I feel more settled. My life was completely knocked off balance when I woke up in that hospital bed, but each day I feel like it realigns itself just a little more.”

“Have any other little things come back? Like the coffee?”

She hums thoughtfully as she looks up at him, eyes sparkling. “I can’t just pull them out of the air,” she teases as she shoves his chest lightly, laughing when he tightens his hold on her waist in response. “It’s got to be in the moment. Like right now, for instance, I remember that you always have such an unfairly attractive case of bedhead in the mornings.”

Her fingers sift through his hair and Killian’s eyebrows arch playfully. “I’m not sure that’s a memory, darling. I’d simply chalk that up as the powers of observation.”

“Maybe…” she allows, giggling as Killian presses a light kiss to her lips. He can feel her smile against his lips and he can’t help but match her grin when he pulls away.

Once again he’s rushed with the memory of the words she’d spoken last night, and he’s overwhelmed with the thought that she might love him. That perhaps she feels just an ounce of the love he has for her. His gaze softens and his thumb trails a tender path down the side of her cheek until it finds a home pressed against the small dimple at her chin.

He could look at her, her features soft in the golden glow of the morning, forever.

She wraps her fingers around his wrist, holding his hand to her face for just a moment before pulling it down and tangling their fingers together.

“Our friends are meeting for dinner tonight,” Killian says, swallowing thickly, the hand that had been around her waist sliding until it finds her hip. “We can go if you want?”

He’s not sure what type of response he’s expecting, but the one she gives is simple and easy.

“Sure. What time?”

“Not until six, so we have the entire day to ourselves until then.”

Her eyebrows lift as a delighted smile tugs at her lips. “Oh really? And what were you planning on having us do with all of this free time?”

He pretends to think, as if the weight of such a decision is a heavy one. “A movie perhaps? Or I’m up for anything that involves cuddling really.” He bites his lip and arches an eyebrow her. He’s awarded with the sound of her laughter as she tips her head back, her small shoulders shaking with her happiness.

“Cuddling is a bit presumptuous don’t you think?” she teases.

“Not at all,” he hums, taking his hands and running them up her back and pulling her a bit closer.

“We’ll see.” She leans into his embrace and sighs, curling her fingers around the neck of his shirt and pulling him forward into a gentle kiss.

* * *

“Do we always eat at Granny’s?” Emma asks as Killian opens the door for her, his hand at her back as he guides her inside.

She whispers the question, as if worried Granny’s customers will hear and rise against her, affronted that she’d suggest eating anywhere else.

Killian chuckles lowly and leans forward, the breath of his answer warming her ear. “More or less. But Granny essentially lets us eat for free so…” He trails off with a shrug just as Mary Margaret approaches.

“Emma! Killian! You came!”

She dances up to them, hesitating for a second as if unsure what to do before wrapping her arms around Emma and embracing her. To Killian’s surprise, Emma squeezes her back warmly, accepting the affection.

Releasing her on an inhale Mary Margaret smiles at Emma before turning her attention to Killian. “We’re just back there at the usual spot. Liam and everyone are here already, you can head back. I just want to talk to Emma for a moment.”

He looks at Emma, only assenting when she nods. He knows Mary Margaret always means well, but he also knows how smothered Emma’s felt by her at times since she lost her memories.

“Alright,” he says, giving Emma’s hand a reassuring squeeze before he heads off to their usual table.

Their spot consists of two larger tables pushed together right smack dab in the middle of the diner with a varying number of chairs crammed around it, depending on who all makes it out that night.

David’s sitting at the head, with Leo propped up and standing on his thighs as he bounces him slightly and laughs at something Ruby’s saying.

Liam and Elsa are seated next to Ruby. Elsa is oblivious to him as she makes faces at Leo trying to get him to giggle, but Liam locks eyes with him stone-faced.

Stubborn as he can sometimes be, Killian’s still not all too happy with his brother and the feeling is only amplified when Liam’s eyes flick to Emma before returning to stare at him.

“Brother,” Killian says in greeting as he sits across from him.

Liam leans back in his chair and crosses his arm. “What have you two been up to?”

He knows he shouldn’t, he’s only stoking a raging fire at this point, but he leans back and mirrors his brother’s stance, narrowing his eyes. “Nothing that’s really any of your business.”  

Liam exhales through his nose, clearly irritated, but before he can retort Elsa turns her attention away from baby Leo and beams Killian.

“You guys made it!” she sings happily.

Killian drags his eyes from his brother’s to smile at Elsa. “Aye, we wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

“Well I’m glad,” she says as she wraps her arms around one of Liam’s and rests her chin on his shoulder.

The chair next to him scrapes against the tile floor as it’s pulled out and Emma falls into it. Her lips tip up in a small smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Hey,” she breathes in greeting.

They hold eye contact for longer than necessary, only breaking when Emma blinks and looks down at the table, her cheeks pinking slightly before she takes a deep breath and reaches for the menu. He can see her biting back a smile as she opens it and instantly he feels calmer.

What he’s feeling, and what he’s doing with Emma really is none of his brother’s business.  As a matter of fact, it’s nobody’s business but their own. And so with a determination to ignore his brother for the evening, Killian grabs a menu of his own and looks it over.

Granny goes overboard as usual, bringing out way too many helpings of fries and insisting that they all end the night with sundaes.

For most of the night he’s content to just watch Emma. He hasn’t seen her so lively since before she woke up in that hospital bed. He hears music in her laughter as she talks and listens to everyone. Her smiles come easy, and he sees constellations in the way her eyes light up with happiness. She inevitably ends up with Leo in her arms, and she alternates between playing with him and listening to David animatedly tell everyone about the dog he rescued from oncoming traffic earlier that afternoon.

At some point Leo falls asleep on her shoulder, and despite Mary Margaret offering to take him off her hands, Emma insists on holding him.

When he drapes his arm across the back of Emma’s chair, she immediately leans back against his chest, like a magnet drawn to him. And as she lays there against him and cuddles Leo, Killian can’t remember the last time he felt this content.

He knows that Liam’s been slowly fuming all night. He can feel his gaze burning through him. But if he stares down at Emma and presses his nose into her hair and breathes her in, he can almost forget his frustrations with his brother.

Almost.

The sharp sound of silverware clattering against the table interrupts the party’s happy chatter as Liam slams his glass down.

“Can I speak with you, Killian?” he asks as an unnatural quiet settles between everyone.

Liam’s voice is calm, but his eyes are seething.

Elsa stares at Liam with a worried expression and David and Mary Margaret exchange a quick glance when Ruby whistles lowly.

Killian clenches his jaw before he responds, “Now?”

“Yes, now,” he spits through his teeth before shoving his chair back and standing.

With a sigh Killian removes his arm from Emma’s chair, meeting her eyes as she sits up and turns toward him, Leo’s cheek still smooshed against her shoulder.

“Be right back,” he whispers to her as he uses his finger to smooth out the lines that form between her eyes as she frowns.

Liam waits until he stands before he turns and makes his way towards the back of the diner and past the jukebox, disappearing into the back hallway.

With another sigh Killian follows after him, winking at Granny as he passes her. She stares at him over the top of her glasses that rest at the edge of her nose, her hand at her hip as she all but silently threatens him not to get in a brawl in her diner.

He barely steps into the hallway when Liam starts berating him.

“What the hell, Killian?” he says sharply, his arms folded across his chest. “Please. Enlighten me on what the bloody hell you are thinking.”

Killian runs a frustrated hand through his hair before leaning against the wall across from him. “I don’t want to do this right now, Liam.”

“Like hell you don’t,” Liam fumes. “I’ve been watching you all night. You’re all starry-eyed and love-struck. You’ve started something with her again haven’t you?”

“Like I said before, it’s not any of your—”

“She left you Killian!” he hisses, “Please tell me you’re not this daft.”

Anger bubbles inside him. Liam’s never going to get it.

“I think I’m more aware of that then you, _brother._ ” He spits the last word in contempt, upset over the fact that out of anybody, his brother is not the person he has support from in this. “I’m in love with her, Liam,” Killian shouts, pushing off the wall and taking a step towards him. “I can’t just shut that off. And what I do is my decision, not yours, so back off.”

Liam unfolds his arms and clenches his fists, his shoulders and neck tense. “You were a wreck when she left. Completely torn apart. What if this ends badly again? I don’t want to see you like that; I’m just trying to help you see what’s best for you. I—”

“But what if it doesn’t?” Killian interrupts. “What if it doesn’t end badly this time? People get second chances all the time. You don’t know how this is going to end.”

“Killian…” Liam breathes, shaking his head as he deflates.

Killian raises a hand and takes a step back. “No, just stop right there. I don’t need your pity, I don’t need your judgement, and I certainly don’t want your advice on this, brother. There are pieces of this that you are not privy to. I’m done talking about this.”

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, neither budging.

Liam finally throws his hands up in the air, growling in frustration. “Fine. But just remember when you’re left picking up the pieces again that I said this was a mistake.”

“Will do, brother,” Killian bites sarcastically, his jaw clenching.

Liam stares at him a moment longer before huffing and storming off.

Killian turns towards the wall, his anger boiling inside him and he’d give anything to be able to punch a hole through the wall right about now. Instead he kicks the baseboard and drops his forehead onto the wall, breathing harshly.

Liam doesn’t get it, and he never will. He can’t just _not_ love Emma. Just being near her fills him in a way that he could never come close to articulating. It’s like she knows the sound of his heart and he’s only every truly home when he’s with her.

He can’t just shut that off.

He stays there with his head against the wall for who knows how long, his eyes squeezed shut as he gains control of his breathing.

A gentle hand touches his shoulder and he jumps, startled.  

He turns to find Emma looking up at him with concern shining in her eyes. “Liam left,” she says after a minute. “He seemed pretty upset.”

He can’t help but scoff, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t think his brother really has a right to be upset over this.

Emma smooths a hand down his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” he grumbles.

Though it’s not like he can really talk to her about it anyway—what would he even say?

_Hi, Liam’s mad because you left me and don’t remember it and now he thinks I’m making a huge mistake?_

Not likely.

They stand in silence for a moment as Emma eyes him, as if she’s trying to gauge what he needs.

“Okay,” she eventually soothes, folding her hand in his. “Do you want to go home?”

She stands perfectly still as she waits for his response.

Finally he nods without saying anything.

He wants nothing more than to just go home.


End file.
